


Out Of Milk...

by 74days



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dark Hunters - Freeform, M/M, Magic!Stiles, Multi, Shaman - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-29
Updated: 2013-02-01
Packaged: 2017-11-22 21:13:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 87,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/614395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/74days/pseuds/74days
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek Hale moved in with the Stilinskis after acting a hero, much to Stiles distress. However, things take a turn for the strange when his arrival coincides with some strange happenings in Stiles life - that will change the course of the pack forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work was completed on another site and I received many suggestions that I post it here.  
> I will remove the notes at the end that were originally posted as they were time specific and were mostly responses to reviews / questions / my journey into the Supernatural TV show (season 5 now)
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!

Stiles stood at the door to the kitchen, not really believing what he was seeing. His dad was there, talking on the phone – police business, judging by his tone. But what really, _really_ couldn't be real – Derek Hale was leaning against the counter. In jeans and a vest. With a bowl of cereal in his hand. In _Stiles_ kitchen.

Derek was paying him no attention at all as he continued to eat the fruit loops, but Stiles knew that the Were was fully aware of Stiles standing in the door frame.

His dad put down the phone with a resigned "I'll be there in five." Which was enough to make Stiles momentary push aside the fact that Derek Hale was in his bare feet in his kitchen.

"It's your day off." He managed, as his dad gave him a long suffering look.

"Look, kid-"

"It's your day off! We're supposed to be painting the spare room." Stiles tried not to look at Derek who was watching the exchange with interest. Stiles didn't care if he was laughing at him – this was one of the only times he'd get his dad to himself, real father/son time doing something together.

"Stiles." His dad said, holding up his hand. "I know." He ran his fingers through his hair and Stiles just knew, knew that his dad would be gone most of the day, knew that he'd probably miss dinner – knew that whatever was out there was more important than what was left at home.

Disappointment heavy in his throat, he managed to shrug, trying to keep his expression blank. "It's fine, I'll get started and then we'll finish when you get back." His dad looked relived, and Stiles felt it like a blow to the gut. Practice, repetition – that was the only thing that kept Stiles together, to stop him from flying apart at the seams – stop the hot disappointment in his throat rising up like bile.

Unknowing, or unwilling to see, what was going on with his son, his dad smiled. "Derek here was a great help last night – there was a huge fire down at the old subway station, and he managed to help us get some squatters out before the whole place collapsed."

Stiles snapped his head up to stare at Derek – who was all smiles. _Oh yeah – that would be the fire that HE STARTED!_ Stiles wanted to yell. The fire to hide the supernaturally morphed body of Gerald Argent. Who Derek had needed to rip to shreds just to make sure the creep stayed dead.

"That's cool." He managed, between gritted teeth.

"Seems Derek here was sleeping in his car, and saw the fire."

"I just did what any one would do," Derek said, and good god – didn't he just sound like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth?

"I told him that he can't be sleeping in his car, you know – with the colder weather coming in, so I said he could stay here until he found something."

Stiles stared at his dad as though he'd lost his mind. Derek stay here? Derek who a few months ago you had arrested for murdering his sister? Derek who last night ripped a person in half and set fire to the bits that were left twitching? But all he said was:

"Okay."

"You really don't need to do this, Sheriff, I hate to put you out like this." Derek said, and his white teeth glinted in the morning sunlight like some toothpaste advert.

"No, you did a good thing last night." His dad said, and Stiles rolled his eyes. "And you deserve a break. I didn't know how bad things were – you know, after your sister and that whole misunderstanding. You should have talked to me sooner."

Stiles wondered if maybe Derek had some magical properties in his smile, cause it had obviously managed to charm his dad into thinking that the guy who was standing opposite him in his bare feet wasn't some kind of serial killer. Although, Stiles admitted, he didn't look like a dangerous guy right now – with his smiles and humble looks. In fact, he looked downright puppy dog – and not the rabid wolf he actually was.

"I wish I could pay you back for this, sir." Derek said, and didn't he just sound as threatening as a butterfly? Stiles wasn't convinced.

"The best thing you could do right now is stop Stiles here from burning down _this_ house while I'm gone." They both laughed as Stiles glared.

"I can help out – I'm pretty handy with a paint brush." The barefoot wolf smiled.

"I can manage." Stiles spoke up, at the same time his dad said, "That would be a great help."

"Thanks, Sir."

Stiles stared at them both – couldn't quite get his head around what had just happened. Derek Hale would be living in his house? This would not end well…

"Dude, you can't stay here!" Stiles managed to hiss as his dad left them to get changed into his uniform. Derek slowly ate a spoonful of fruit loops and shrugged.

"In case you hadn't noticed, the place I was staying burnt down last night."

"Then go live with Scott! He's like… he's… you can't stay here!" Stiles repeated.

"I can't go and live with Scott." Derek said, still looking stupidly relaxed leaning against the counter. "On account of his mom not trusting me as far as she could throw me."

"My dad thinks you murdered your sister!"

"No, your dad thinks I'm a troubled guy having issues adjusting to the horrific murder of my sister." Stiles couldn't help but stare at him stupidly. "Oh, you've no milk left." He said, lifting up the bowl to his lips and drinking the leftover milk that he couldn't get with his spoon. For some reason, Stiles found that incredibly funny – and started laughing. The wolf looked at him like he'd actually lost his mind for a moment before turning and putting the bowl in the sink and turning on the hot water.

"Dude," Stiles laughed. "Seriously?"

"Well, at least you two are getting along." His dad said from behind him. Stiles turned to see him belt on his gun, already in uniform. Desperately fighting down the urge to say 'stay', Stiles shrugged. "I'll be back as soon as I can." His dad lied, walking to the door. "And then we can spend some real time together."

 

* * *

 

"Careful with those!" Stiles choked out as Derek started hauling boxes out of the room. The wolf gave him a dark look as he carefully placed the box down at his feet.

"It's just paper." He said, nudging it with his foot.

"Just… just be careful with them." Stiles said, looking about the room. His dad had just boxed everything up, everything. Stiles knew what was in some of them, papers – medical records, photos, clothes. Somewhere was a half used bottle of perfume that had somehow managed to seep into the room, filling it with a scent of vanilla and lily that made him want to lay on the floor and cry. No wonder his dad had put off decorating this room – just walking in it was like a punch to the gut.

"Where do you want these to go?"

"The attic." Stiles managed, fighting back the lump that had formed in his throat, making it difficult to swallow. They would throw nothing out, not even one scrap of paper, because that was all that was left of her. If Derek thought Stiles was a bit strange insisting they keep everything, he didn't say anything – which he was grateful for. They managed to figure out a pretty good system, Derek, the stronger of the two, would lift the boxes up into the attack, and Stiles would neatly stack them up. The attack was dark, which was good, because Stiles just knew he looked like hell, especially when the box Derek handed up had slipped, spilling photographs all over the hallway. Stiles had scrambled down, tried to pick up each photo without even looking at them, but it was impossible. Smiling, laughing – her pale face, a few moles, clear amber eyes, every photo was like someone punching him in the throat. Derek had helped, carefully lifting the photos and putting them back in the box – ignoring the fat tears that were running off the end of Stiles chin.

So now he was up in the attic, glad of the dark and the solitude as he stacked boxes of memories away, knowing that the next time he saw these would more than likely be when his dad died. He'd have to empty the house then, but until that day they would sit up here in the dark – half forgotten.

It was well after noon by the time they got the boxes moved – there was still a hell of a lot of stuff to do before the place was even ready to prep for painting, move the bed with its saggy mattress and the wardrobe full of metal hangers than clanged and rattled every time Derek bumped into it. The empty dresser that Stiles would never admit he used to sit by and make faces in the large mirrors. The carpet that needed more than vacuuming – strange stains that looked like coffee or soda left for years to just dye the fibres. It looked grubby, dirty, abandoned, which was pretty much true. The smell lingered though, lilies and vanilla.

"I guess we'll stop for food." Stiles said, standing in the centre of the room. Trying to breath in the smell, hold on to it in his memory before he opened the window and the smells of the world would wash her away.

"What do you want?" Stiles said, looking in the empty cupboards. "We have… erm… I think this is tuna – and…. Ah! Peaches!" He held the tin up, before disappointment hit him. "In fruit juice. Gross. I told dad to get the stuff in syrup."

"I don't think a half tin of tuna is going to be quite enough." Derek said, leaning back against the counter where he had been propped up this morning.

"Dad was going shopping last night." Stiles said. "Before you turned into an arsonist." Derek just shrugged, as though burning down buildings was just something he did every Friday night. "I'll go to the store and get something." Stiles sighed. He hated going grocery shopping. There was always too much going on, the shelves full of stuff he just couldn't help but put in the trolley – he ended up spending a fortune. His dad had all but banned him from going anywhere near the place.

He opened the drawer that had the 'household' money in there – pulled out a £50 and stuffed it in his jeans pocket. Walking to the door he turned back for a moment, "Try not to…" He was going to say: 'Burn the house down while I'm gone.' But the words died in his mouth. Derek was already behind him, pulling on his leather jacket and scowling. "Nevermind." He quickly corrected.

 

* * *

 

They took Stiles Jeep, although he knew Derek wasn't too happy about it. By the time they had pulled into the massive parking lot, Stiles was about to strangle the wolf beside him. He complained about everything. The crappy radio, the stupid station Stiles had programmed into it, the lack of air con and the sticky door.

"You know what – this jeep has been through a lot! Deranged werewolves keep ripping stuff out of the engine, people keep slamming me into the doors, some _psychopath_ hammered my head into the steering wheel! So Don't talk about my car like it's some piece of junk." He seethed, clambering out of the door (which stuck).

"I didn't realise you were so touchy about it." Derek grumbled.

"You don't see me talking trash about your car." Stiles said, not looking at the look of utter distain on Derek's face.

"My car, _MY CAR_ , is perfect." He ground out. " _Perfect_."

"Maybe because _your_ car hasn't ever had the engine ripped out of it by a pissed off werewolf!"

They walked into the store in silence.

 

* * *

 

"Put that back."

"But it's on special."

"Put it back." Derek said, before taking a few extra items that Stiles had managed to sneak past him and putting them on the shelves near them. "And will you stop trying to put this crap in here?"

The trolley was half full, but unlike normal when Stiles and his dad went to the store, it wasn't filled with packets and frozen meals. Derek had taken control of the trolley as soon as they walked in and Stiles went right for the candy at the door. He'd dragged him down to the fresh produce, and the trolley was full of peppers and carrots and a few veg Stiles was sure he'd never even seen before. Then he'd talked to the in store butcher about what cuts he had – who'd been so happy that someone else understood the difference between shoulder and back (like, who even cared?) that he'd undercharged them and given them a few different cuts that Stiles just knew his dad was going to flip over.

"I hope you know how to cook this all." Stiles grumbled, putting the packet of easy whip back on the shelf. "Cause dad doesn't have the time to make dinner most nights, and it's a house rule that I don't get near the oven."

"Why does that not surprise me?" Derek said, lifting a bag of flour and a packet of yeast and putting them in the trolley with a smile.

"You laugh now, but we're still trying to scrape the stew off the ceiling." Stiles said, and then, for the first time since he'd met him, Derek actually _did_ laugh. Okay, so it wasn't a full out 'Scott and Stiles laughing so hard that they couldn't breathe laugh,' but it was a laugh.

"Stew?"

"Yeah, so it said to secure the lid, so I did." Stiles paused as Derek lifted a bottle of oil, then changed his mind and picked up a different brand. "With those metal clip things." Derek stopped and turned to face him, slowly.

"You sealed a pot of boiling stew with metal clips."

"Yeah."

"How long did it take before it exploded?"

"About half an hour."

"That long, huh?"

"Yup."

"Do me a favour." Derek said, starting to move the trolley on again as Stiles hurried to keep up with him.

"Sure."

"Stay out of the kitchen."

 

* * *

 

They were sitting in the kitchen eating burgers and fries from the drive-thru they had passed because they'd spent too long at the grocery store, thanks to Derek's anal selection of every item of food he'd put into the trolley. He'd even helped put the stuff away, because apparently the drawer at the bottom of the fridge was for salad and not soda.

"So after this, what's the plan?" Derek said, between bites of his XXL triple quarter pounder. The thing was massive – even Stiles had to admit defeat and order the Double Cheese.

"Well," Stiles said, swallowing a mouthful. "I guess take out the furniture? Dad said they could go in the garage till we're done."

"Cool." Derek said, taking a bite. "Should probably lift the carpet too." He said, mouth full.

Stiles nodded, unable to reply with his mouth stuffed with curly fries.

It turned out that having a stupidly strong werewolf handy when moving solid wood furniture down stairs was undeniably worth the bitching. Derek, it seemed, did not appreciate almost being crushed to death when Stiles lost his grip on the wardrobe at the top of the stairs.

But the room was now totally empty, the carpet rolled up and laying on the garage floor, stains and fading perfume. It had taken them most of the afternoon, but Stiles was pretty happy with the result. Even if his dad had been there, Stiles didn't think they could have done any better.

"I'd better get started on dinner." Derek said, suddenly.

"Don't bother." Stiles said, wandering about the room. "He's never back till after 9."

"Your dad?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I'm still hungry. I'll put some aside for the Sheriff for later." Derek said, looking at Stiles. "Why don't you start wiping down the woodwork?"

"Don't I get to see the great Michelin Star Alpha get his domestic goddess out?" Stile asked, grinning.

"Stiles, if you come anywhere near me when I'm cooking, I'll rip your throat out." He paused. "With my _teeth_." He growled, stalking out of the room.

"That gets pretty old, after the first 500 times!" Stiles called after him, grinning when he heard Derek's bark of laughter as he walked down the stairs.

 

* * *

 

They didn't bother eating at the table, Derek sat on the sofa while Stiles used a pillow on the floor, propping his plate up on his knees. The food was amazing, so much better than anything his dad had ever made – miles better than the frozen meals that they'd come to depend on. The TV was on, Derek refusing to relinquish the remote even though Stiles had threatened him with castration next time he was unconscious.

"I can't believe you like this." Stiles said, as the two main characters wrestled with sexual tension as well as a coin that gave people good luck – with disastrous results.

"It's great." Was all Derek said before ignoring him again.

"So are they dating?"

"No." Derek said. "But they should be."

"Why?"

"Cause Pete loves her."

"The dark haired girl?"

"Mika." Derek snapped. "Can I please watch this in peace?"

"It's not as good as Supernatural." Stiles commented as the credits started.

"For that, you get to wash the dishes." Derek said, staring at him like he'd lost his mind.

"What's wrong with Destial?"

"What's wrong wi-" He gaped. Stiles had never seen Derek at a loss for words, but he was sitting on the sofa in his jeans and vest (which had a gravy splash on it) looking at Stiles like he'd started talking in tongues.

"I think they rock." He defended, but Derek just groaned.

"Next you'll be talking about Wincest and I won't even be able to look at you in the face." He said, handing him the dirty plate. "Dishes."

 

* * *

 

Derek had made him do all the dishes, including the pots (which was totally unfair) but had come through and stood by the sink with a fluffy dishcloth and had dried, which he didn't really need to do. And they talked. Talked about TV shows and music, and food and school and sport. Talked for so long that Stiles forgot that Derek was the big bad wolf, the guy who was so fucked up in the head that he'd set fire to a whole building because it was the easiest way to hide a dead body.

He forgot that his dad would rather spend his day off at work rather than deal with his messed up kid, that his mom was really, _really_ gone.

Forgot everything, until he was sound asleep on the sofa, feet tucked under him.

 

* * *

 

He awoke to the sound of voices. Warm and safe, his dads voice drifted around him.

"He sleeps like the dead."

"It's okay."

"I'm really sorry. Just push him off."

"It's okay. There's some food in the oven."

"Just let me take him upstairs."

"I'll do it, get something to eat."

Then he was lifted, easily – smoothly, before the familiar comfort of his bed was around him. He grabbed a fistful of covers and rolled, cocooned and warm, before drifting further into sleep.

 

* * *

 

It was well after nine when he finally woke up – the smell of bacon drifted up the stairs, tugging on his stomach. Rolling out of bed, he wandered lazily down the stairs. Derek was standing by the cooker, frying pan in one hand.

"So, the domestic Goddess is still here then?"

"Shut up, Stiles." Derek groaned, half turning to face him. "Do you want some of this?"

"Does the 'Were shift at the full moon?" Stiles grinned. Glancing about, he saw something that made his heart sink. There was a plate and a coffee mug already on the drainer. His dads.

"He left about an hour ago." Derek said, handing him a plate with bacon and eggs on it.

"What?" Stiles said, looking at his plate and swallowing the disappointment again. "No happy face?"

Derek looked at him blankly, as though he had no idea what Stiles was talking about – which was probably the case. "Dude, eggs and bacon should be arranged like this." He quickly moved the hot rashers with his fingers and displayed his plate to Derek, who just rolled his eyes. "Like a happy face."

"Yeah, okay." Derek said, putting bacon on his own plate. It wasn't a happy face.

"Very funny."

Derek grinned as he started to eat his 'frowny face' breakfast, which actually made him look like a really normal guy – and Stiles found himself smiling even after he'd finished.

 

* * *

 

They were just painting the room white – as Stiles and his dad had no idea what to do with the place. Stiles had wanted a games room, but his dad had wanted an office. So while they figured it out, the walls would just be white.

Derek used his nails to pry open the tin of paint, which Stiles thought was awesome, and started carefully painting around all the fixtures in the room. Stiles got to paint the big wide spaces – which was great cause he was really bad at delicate stuff.

"What colour have you picked?"

"This." Stiles said, waving his brush around the room. "At least until we know what we want to do with this place."

Derek nodded, returning to his painting. "Cool."

They stopped for lunch (which was the leftovers from the night before) and Stiles looked at his own paint splattered clothes, and back to Derek – who had managed not to get a single speck of white paint on his black jeans.

"Seriously!" Stiles groaned. "I look like I've caught some deadly tropical disease and you look like you've spent the morning in a bubble."

"If you weren't waving the brush around like a deadly weapon, you'd not have paint in your hair." Derek said, reaching over the kitchen counter and pulling a dried clump of paint out of Stiles' buzz-cut. "Jesus, it's on your back – how the hell did you get paint on your back?" He asked. "You've got the brush in front of you!"

"Maybe…" Stiles said, face thoughtful. "Maybe, this paintbrush is an artefact. Like in that show."

"Really?"

"Yeah! And… and its super-power thing is that you get paint everywhere."

"Uh-huh."

"And any moment now, the little ginger girl is gonna run through the door with that old guy, and cover you in purple crap."

Derek looked pointedly at the back door.

"Any moment when you least expect it." Stiles clarified.

"Until then," Derek said, picking up their plates and putting them in the sink, "Let's just try to get the painting done without covering yourself in it."

 

* * *

 

"You did not just do that." Derek's voice was a low, dangerous growl.

"Ah, no." Stiles grinned. "I did not." He waved the paintbrush around his head as though he had no control over it. "It's this crazy artefact!"

Derek, standing by the wall, with a pure white stripe up the back of his grey t-shirt, just watched as Stiles stumbled around the room, holding onto the paintbrush as though it was dragging him all over the place.

"Dude! I'm telling you!" He yelled. "Mike! Pete!"

"Mika."

"Yeah! _Mika_! Help!" Stiles swung the paintbrush madly, little paint splatters flying all over the place. This was the kind of stunt he'd normally pull with Scott, but Scott wasn't here and Stiles was so bored of painting in silence. Swinging around, he misjudged the distance between Derek and the paintbrush – it swiped full up the side of his face, paint in his stubble, side-burns and hair. His eyes glowed red.

"Fuck." Stiles said, as he dropped the brush and did the only thing he could – He broke into a run.

He'd half jumped down the stairs, not really expecting Derek to follow him, but when he heard the roar, he knew that he was about to get his ass kicked. Derek didn't even bother with the stairs; he just leapt, following Stiles into the living room.

Stiles, who had a survialistic nature, broke into a sweat as adrenaline kicked in – he ran out of the living room and fled back up the stairs – a pissed off werewolf only a few seconds behind him.

Seeing the ladder to the attic, he bolted for it, using his hands and well and his legs to get up there double time. Derek though, just leapt – completely bypassing the metal ladder and landing on his feet in the dark attic, which was a pretty bad idea as he smacked his head on a beam, which forced him on his knees.

"Jesus, Derek." He managed, his voice wavering between true panic and laughter. Derek roared again, grabbing Stiles by the ankle and hauling him across the floor toward the hatch. Stiles started to laugh, true hysteria kicking in as Derek grabbed his shirt and pulled him to his knees.

"Dude," He gasped. "You have no idea how stupid you look with a big white stripe down one side of your scary wolf head." Laughing so hard he lost control of his limbs, he sunk to the floor. Derek, who hadn't expected Stiles to suddenly collapse, lost his balance and crashed on top of him, which just made Stiles laugh all the harder.

"Oh my God!" Stiles gasped, mouth inches from Derek's ear. "Get off me! Fragile human getting crushed to death here!" before laughter took hold of him again.

"My leg is caught in the ladder." Derek ground out. "I can't move."

"Oh god." Stiles laughed. "Okay, let me just…" He started wriggling from under Derek, who suddenly stopped breathing. It took a few moments for Stiles to understand why. "Um… Dude?" He managed, thankful for the darkness that covered his sudden blush as heat flooded to his face.

"Shut up and move." Derek ground out.

“Well, yeah – but um...” He wasn’t quite able to think straight, because DEREK HALE, ultimate badass, had a hard on. A fucking massive hard on, one that got Stiles attention through Derek's jeans, _his_ jeans  & his boxers – and his full on hysteria.

No wonder he was popular.

“Are you going to move?”

“Are you going to beat me to death with a concealed weapon if I do?”

“I’m going to beat you death either way.” Derek hisses, only to Stiles it didn’t sound like much of a threat. Laughter bubbled again.

“Beat me to death? Gettit?” he snorted.

“STILES!” Derek roared. Still laughing, Stiles wriggled out some more, but paused again as Derek sucked in a sharp breath. “Stiles, I swear to God, if you don’t move right now.” He hissed.

“Well, Yeah... I’m thinking about that.”

“Think harder.”

“Like you are?”

Derek managed to glare at him, even in the darkness. “Move, Stiles.”

“Well...” Stiles said, wondering just how far he could push it before Derek actually snapped him in half. “Seems to me like my ‘moving’ is part of the issue here.”

“There is not an issue here.” Derek ground out. “This is not happening, so move and help me up.”

“So... this,” He said, flexing the lower half of his body under Derek. “Isn’t happening.”

“No.” Derek bit out. Stiles could almost hear his teeth grinding together.

“Or this?” Stiles twisted his head around so he was just centimetres from Derek's face. He could feel each warm breath, felt the suck of air as he very, very slowly rocked his hips into Derek's.

“Stiles.” Derek groaned. “Stop it.”

“I think...” Stiles said, “That you actually might be enjoying this.”

“Really?” Derek snapped, and Stiles could feel his breath on the skin of his face and neck. “And what makes you think that?”

“Aside from the dick pressing into my stomach?” Stiles grinned. “The fact that you can still move your arms but you haven’t even tried to push me away yet.”

* * *

 


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles sat on a pillow on the floor and watched TV in silence. Derek had made dinner again, and had tossed the remote at Stiles feet. He’d picked NCIS, cause he loved that show, and Derek didn’t seem to mind. He wasn’t complaining, at least.

He actually wasn’t saying _anything_ – and hadn’t since he’d pushed himself off Stiles up in the attic. If Stiles didn’t know better, he’d think the Alpha was embarrassed. Stiles tried to see it from the big bad wolf’s point of view, but every time he tried, he’d end up laughing – and Derek just _knew_ he was laughing at him.

For Stiles, getting hard at stupid times was part of his daily life. He’d become an expert in placement of backpacks, lacrosse sticks, books and (of course) pillows. He wondered if Derek ever had hormonal teenage urges or if he just went wolf and killed stuff to get it out his system. Hell, it hadn’t been the first time some dude had poked him with his pecker (he snorted a bit at the thought, which drew a dangerous look from Derek) – Scott had done it a couple of times and shrugged it off with a laughing ‘ _Sorry dude!_ ’. It just confirmed what Stiles already knew – he was attractive to guys. **_All_** guys, not just gay ones (which was awesome). No wonder Danny avoided him – Stiles was a man magnet!

Derek though, didn’t really seem to know how to deal with it. He’d been pretty much sulking for hours, in silence, which was on the one thing that Stiles hated more than anything. _Silence_.

“Do you watch this?” He said, scooping up a fork of carrots and chewing loudly.

“Yes.” Derek said, before going back to ignoring him.

“Did you know that the actor that plays younger Gibbs is actually Gibbs Kid?”

Derek didn’t even look in his direction.

“I think I’m pretty much DiNozzo.” Stiles continued. “I mean, we are both great at movies, good looking and people keep hitting us on the head.” He took another bite of the meatloaf Derek had made. “Twins.” He said, mouth full. Derek remained silent.

“Scott is… Palmer.” He thought aloud, chewing away. “Cause he’s always asking stupid questions. Allison is Ziva, cause, you know – the whole deadly killers in the family past thing.” Taking another bite he looked up at Derek who’s head was pointing directly at the TV, but his eyes kept drifting down to Stiles. “You’re obviously Gibbs – on account of the scary showing up thing, the ‘leave me alone so I can build boats’ and the nasty habit of _hitting people on the head._ ”

That made Derek smile, the first time since the whole ‘hard on for Stiles’ thing, which wasn’t exactly the longest sulk Derek had ever been in, but it was driving Stiles insane.

“I’d be Director Vance.” He said, but still didn’t turn his head.

“Yah, right.” Stiles scoffed. “That dude actually has you know – a life.” He paused. “You could be McGee…”

“Gibbs is fine.” He said, handing his empty plate to Stiles.

 

* * *

 

After Stiles had washed everything (including the tin, which was baked on) Derek came through and dried what was stacked up on the counter.

“So… are you still pissed at me for painting you like one of my French girls?” Stiles said, leaning against the sink. The water splashes quickly soaked into his shirt, but he didn’t mind. Derek stared at him – eyebrows down. “Titanic!” Stiles laughed. “Do you live under a rock - never mind – of course you do.” He paused, shrugging. “You didn’t miss much – the boat sinks.”

“I know that.” Derek said, and for a moment, Stiles wondered why he was suddenly so defensive. “I did finish High School, you know.”

“Yeah, but that was like…. Years ago!” Stiles laughed, “We’ve got things like computers and cars and internal plumbing now.” He stopped, feeling the blood drain from his face. “Damn!” He said, dashing for the stairs. How could he forget! He had his head under his bed, backside sticking in the air as he tried to pull out his backpack. “Damn!” Pulling his lacrosse gear out, he crawled further under. “Balls.”

“What are you doing?” Derek’s voice was half amused.

“I forgot, I’ve got a thing… homework!”

“At 8 on a Sunday night, you’ve remembered you’ve got homework?” Derek said, although from under the bed, it was a little muffled.

“Yeah.” Stiles felt his backpack with the tips of his fingers and grabbed it. “Chemistry – and that teacher is just dying to fail me.”

“Why?”

“Oh,” Stiles said, crawling out from under the bed. “It might have something to do with the fact that my dad kinda almost arrested him.” Derek was leaning against the door frame with his arms folded, the way that Scott used to do before Allison took over his life.

“Can he do that – fail you?”

“He can try.” Stiles said, looking through his bag until he found what he was looking for. “But as I’ve had a constant A in pretty much every class I’ve ever taken, he’d have to have a pretty good reason.”

“You don’t strike me as a straight A student.” Derek said, one eyebrow raised.

“Yeah, well, Scott doesn’t look like the star of the Lacrosse field, but turns out…” he paused. “Well, turns out he’s a giant werewolf cheat, but the example stands.”

“So you’re going to be doing this all night?”

“Nah – give me an hour.” He said, pouring papers over his desk.

“This I have to see.”

 

* * *

 

So Derek was sitting on the edge of Stiles bed, head down as he flipped through one of the books that were now scattered around the room. Stiles was reading four books at once, highlighter jammed in the corner of his mouth.

“And you understand this?”

“Mmph.”

“This isn’t like any math I’ve seen.”

Stiles glanced over at the book Derek was holding and rolled his eyes. “Mhf mfanomcs.” Realising that he still had the highlighter in his mouth, he spat it out. “It’s economics.”

Derek frowned as he snapped the textbook shut and glared at Stiles. “You said this would take you an hour.”

“It’s taken me 45 minutes and I’m almost done.” Stiles grinned, not really wanting to mention that Derek really didn’t need to stay in his room if he wanted to go and do something else. It had been ages since someone had sat with him as he studied – it used to be Scott, who needed all the help that he could get, but since Allison studying was just an excuse to make out. Having someone else in the room made it easier to concentrate, even if the person was Derek Hale.

The sound of his dad pulling up in the drive made Derek snap his head around to the window. Stiles, who saw that it was almost 9, gave a small huff of a sigh. So much for his dad spending the weekend with him. When the door opened, Derek went out into the hall. Stiles heard the footsteps down the stairs and the sound of friendly voices. He’d just finished his homework when his dad gently knocked on his door.

“Hey, kid.”

“Hey dad.” He said, putting the lid on his pen. His dad looked tired, worn out. Sometimes Stiles forgot that it wasn’t an easy job.

“I’m really sorry about this weekend, Son.” He said, running his hand over his face. “Next weekend.” He nodded. “Next weekend for sure, we’ll do something – just us.”

“Yeah.” Stiles said, not believing a word of it.

“I’ll let you get back to your studies.”

Stiles didn’t bother telling his dad that he’d finished.

 

* * *

 

School was… school. Stiles always found it hard to concentrate at the best of times, but Scott wasn’t helping at all, talking constantly about his weekend with Alison. They’d managed to sneak almost the whole time together – her dad none the wiser.

In fact, he’d been talking about Alison for so long without pause that Stiles hadn’t even managed to tell him that Derek Hale, the guy who caused pretty much every problem in Beacon Hills, was living at his house. Stiles tried to be okay with Scott’s new obsession, but he was pissed. In fact, the only person he’d really talked to all weekend was a psycho killer. He wasn’t even sure if he counted as a best friend anymore, they spent no time together at all – unless (of course) it was putting Stiles in mortal peril, or Alison was having family time with her dad. He was starting to feel like sloppy seconds.

So when, at the end of the day, Scott remembered to ask him what he did over the weekend, all he said was ‘study’. Derek could tell Scott what was going on.

 

* * *

 

“Did you like New York?”

“Yeah. Laura liked it more, but… it was good.”

“Stiles mom and I went there for our Honeymoon.” His dad said, “She made me sit through a musical and hours and hours of shopping.” There was a sadness in his voice, but for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t swallowed in his grief. Talking to Derek, who had also lost a woman in his life, maybe made it easier. Stiles (who had a million questions) remained silent. He loved hearing about his mom.

“Laura worked in one of those clothing stores that only have one or two items on display – and miles of white paintwork and glass.”

“What did you do?”

“I was a waiter.” Derek cut a chunk of red steak. “Tips were okay.”

“Pretty big change to come back, I guess.”

“Yeah. But Laura came here… and she was my sister.”

“Stiles mom loved it. She was always talking about how she wanted to go back, but we just never had the time.” His dad took a bite of his steak. “We never really had any time.”

“You think you have forever.” Derek said, and there was a real regret in his voice. His dad just nodded and reached over, grabbing his forearm for just a second. Derek was obviously not expecting the older man to offer this momentary affection, and gratitude washed over his face for just a moment. Stiles guessed it really must have hurt him, being accused of killing his sister who he loved, probably more than anyone in the world.

“This is some good steak.” His dad said, taking another bite. “I think in the couple of days you’ve been here I’ve put on a few pounds.”

“I’m sure it’s got nothing to do with the burgers and fries you’ve been eating at work.” Stiles said, giving his dad his very best ‘I know exactly what you’ve been doing look’. His dad managed to look a little bashful.

“I do try, you know!” He said, which made Derek smile. Stiles wondered if he missed eating meals with his family, sitting around a table and just talking. It seemed like such a normal thing to have Derek there, eating steak and veg and talking about his old job, his old life.

“How was school?”

“Normal.”

“How’s Scott? Don’t see him around as much anymore.”

“Yeah, he’s… he’s got other stuff now.”

“Ah, that’ll be the new girlfriend.”

“Yeah. I mean, No! They aren’t dating anymore.” Stiles quickly corrected, but his dad gave him a look – he knew he wasn’t buying it. “Ah, her dad is pretty strict about that.”

“Pretty bad of him to just dump you now he’s got a girl.” His dad said, disappointment in his voice. “I didn’t think he was that kind of kid.”

“No, he’s just… its just… complicated.” Stiles said, knowing it sounded pretty lame. “He’s just busy.”

Derek took a drink of his beer (his dad had no issues with letting the guest who cooked have a beer, after-all, he was over 21) in silence. Stiles was embarrassed – he didn’t want Derek to know that Stiles was now just ‘the sidekick’ rather than the main instigator. Before Derek and his freaky family had arrived in Beacon Hills, Stiles was pretty much the best thing in Scotts life – now he was just the dude that people beat up, or needed around cause they hadn’t figured out how to use Google.

“He didn’t _dump_ me, he’s just busy.” Even Stiles could tell there was a tone of defensive hurt in his voice because... well... Scott had just dumped him. Stiles was really only worth having around when he was needed.

“Okay.” His dad said, taking a drink of his soda (low sugar – although he was watching Derek drink that beer like he wanted to reach over and grab it). Stiles knew that his dad knew something was going on with Scott that went a little further than a new girlfriend, but had no idea what. “I was thinking, what with that room almost done – why don’t we just put the bed back till you can find a place, Derek? It would be a lot easier than having you sleeping on the sofa.”

“I couldn’t put you out like that, sir.” Derek said, reeking of honesty and wholesome goodness. Stiles wasn’t sure if he was just putting it on, or if he genuinely was grateful – the wolf lied like a pro.

“I don’t see how its much different than right now – except I don’t need to worry about waking you up in the morning when I leave.”  His dad said. “You’ll have to be the one who puts the stuff back in there.”

And that was how Derek Hale became a permanent member of the Stilinski household.

 

* * *

 

“I can’t belive you didn’t tell me DEREK HALE was living in your house!” Scott fumed, sitting across from him at the table. “I had to find out from Isaac at work!” He glared. “Do you know how that made me feel?”

Stiles took a drink of water and tried really hard not to throw the bottle at his friend. Derek had been living with them for nearly 2 weeks. Every night after school they watched TV, talked, had something to eat (Stiles had never eaten so well since his mom died) and Derek had been the one who reminded him about homework. Scott had talked to him at school – but was still too busy with his obsession with Alison to ask what was going on with his best friend.

“I told you.”

“WHEN?” Scott half yelled. A few heads turned in their direction, which cause Scott to look down embarrassed, but Stiles was used to it. He half shrugged.

“Tuesday last. You were telling me all about the smell of Alison’s hair, and I said ‘Derek Hale is living in my house and knows how to cook’ and you nodded, then told me more about the amazing scent of Alison.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Yeah?” Stiles said, standing up. “Maybe if you paid a little more attention to what I was saying then you wouldn’t have that problem.” He left the table before Isaac arrived with Erica and Boyd. Let Scott sit with his wolf friends, He had better things to do.

 

* * *

 

“You seem pissed.”

“I am pissed.”

“Pass the remote.”

“No.”

“Derek, I am not watching this crap, pass the remote.”

“No.”

Stiles lunged from the floor and made a grab for the remote that was in Derek's hand. The wolf wasn’t expecting  Stiles to actually try and get the remote, before he could even blink Stiles had the remote in his hands. Straddling the Alphas knees, Stiles changed the channel, grinning.

“Supernatural is on.”

Derek sat as though he was pinned to the sofa (which Stiles guessed he actually was) and stared at him as though he’d grown another head. “Did you just...”

“Shut up, Derek.” Stiles said, climbing off him and back onto his usual pillow on the floor. Tucking the remote under his butt incase Derek thought he could pull the same trick on him. “We’re going to what Dean pretend he’s not in love for a little bit, and then you can watch your stupid cooking show.”

It wasn’t a big sofa, Stiles was only a few inches from Derek's leg, and the wolf liked to lounge.  Stiles had fallen asleep a few nights ago sitting on the floor, leaning against Derek's calf. The Alpha had sat there for what must have been hours before the sound of the door opening woke Stiles up.

Derek groaned, running his hand over his face. “You are going to make me sit through this again?” he said, using his leg to nudge Stiles. “It was bad enough the first time with your running commentary.”

Stiles liked the way that Derek hadn’t actually moved his leg back, it was pressing against the side of his arm. “I promise this time, I’ll shut up.” He said, looking up at the older guy. “ _Promise_.”

“Fine.” Derek grumbled, but every so often through the show, he’d move his leg – the one Stiles was leaning on – just a little. Just enough to stop Stiles forgetting that he was there.

 

* * *

 


	3. Chapter 3

Weekends were a time for Stiles to hang out with Scott – only this weekend (like every other weekend for the past month) Scott was hanging out with Alison.

His dad was working (again) and Stiles was faced (again) with another weekend of sitting at home and watching TV. Only… that’s not what happened.

* * *

 

“Breakfast is looking a little lean this morning.”

“Shut up. We’re out of eggs.”

“I could go to the store and get more.”

“Stiles, I’ve seen you in a store, you’d come back with chocolate eggs and think you were being smart.” Derek said, handing him a bowl of fruit loops. “We’ll go after this.” Derek paused. “But we’re taking my car.”

* * *

 

Derek raced out of town in his black muscle car, shades on – black leather jacket. Stiles, who had grabbed his checked shirt and red hoodie as he followed the wolf out the door felt completely inferior sitting in the passenger seat beside him.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“I need to do a few things before we get the food in.”

“Sure.” Stiles said, shifting his position in the seat. “Where are we going?”

“Well, I need to get to the bank, sort a few things out. Paperwork.”

“Cool.” Stiles said, looking out of the window as they left Beacon Hills. Strange to think that if he’d been driving out of town in Derek’s car a month ago he’d be pretty sure the Alpha would be taking him somewhere to kill him – not to sit in an office and listen to him talk about money.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” Derek said, although he didn’t sound too convinced.

* * *

 

Dude was a millionaire. A Squillionare. A Bazzilionaire. He’d been living in the spare room of the Stilinski household for a month and the whole time he’d been rolling in cash. Stiles sat in the office as Derek’s bank manager explained to Derek that the money was still there, should he wish to make any purchases. Explained that if Derek needed anything ( _anything at all_ ) just to call – day or night. Someone would be there.

They walked out of the building, Derek putting back on his shades as they stepped out onto the busy street.

“Dude, you’re fucking loaded.”

“Looks like it.”

“You’re living in our spare room and you could buy our house a million times.” Stiles couldn’t help but feel a little bitter. His dad struggled on his wage, and Stiles was an expensive kid – the cost of his meds alone could keep him fed for a year.

“It only just came through.” Derek said, giving him an odd look as they walked. “The insurance company wouldn’t pay out. You’re dad helped me a lot with the police reports, from the fire.”

“That’s a lot of money for a life insurance policy.” Stiles said, scuffing his feet as he walked. They hadn’t gotten anything when his mom died – it all went to pay for her medical bills.

“There were 11 people in the house.” Derek said, and Stiles felt like the worst kind of bastard. He stopped and looked up at Derek.

“I’m sorry. I just…” He tried to find the words. “I just… my dad… we…”

“I know.” Derek said, and put his hand on his shoulder. Stiles smiled, grateful and comforted, although he knew that he should be the one doing the comforting.

They walked through the busy Saturday crowds - no one gave them a second look, even though Stiles knew they much make an odd looking pair, One brooding drug dealer and a skinny pale kid in a red hoodie.

* * *

 

“You’re buying clothes?” Stiles grinned, as Derek walked into the clothing store. Derek glared, but there was no real threat behind it. “I hate to tell you, that’s losing its effect when you’re standing by purple and pink board shorts.”

“Shut up, Stiles.” Derek said, but there was a smile in his tone.

Turned out that clothes’s shopping with Derek was actually pretty fun. He shot down everything Stiles suggested, but didn’t seem to mind standing about while Stiles looked through rails and rails of clothes.

“I went shopping with Lydia once.” He said, picking up a red t-shirt and handing it to Derek, who checked the size before putting it back on the rack. “She kind of ruined me forever when it comes to clothes.”

“You talk about her a lot.” Derek said, taking the blue t-shirt Stiles handed him and putting it back on the rack again.

“I thought I was going to marry her.” Stiles said, handing Derek the only grey t-shirt on the rack. “Then Jackson got all supernaturally enhanced and it turns out that Lydia digs that in guys.”

“It had its downsides.”

“Yeah.” Stiles said, walking over to the jeans. “Strength, agility, speed, power – sexual awesomeness. I could see how it must suck for you.”

Derek actually laughed, a real laugh that attracted a couple of looks from the girls who were standing at the counter. They were cute, really cute – and Stiles groaned. There was no way they were going to notice him with Derek around. He picked up a pair of jeans (black, of course – the wolf really rocked the drug dealer look) and tried to look like he knew what size Derek might be.

Derek pulled the jeans out of his hand and smacked him on the back of the head, before pointing out the size. XXL.

Stiles rubbed the back of his head and winced. “Dude, my medical bills cost a fortune as it is, I don’t need to add permanent brain damage on to the list!”

“Sorry.” He said, but Stiles could see he was trying to hide a smile. He reached out and rubbed the back of Stiles head where he had hit him. “Poor kitten.”

Stiles glared, but the feeling of Derek’s hand on the back of his head felt… nice. _Strange_ , but nice. When Derek didn’t move his hand right away, Stiles found himself leaning back into him, it only lasted a few seconds, maybe no one else in the world would have noticed, but Stiles did – Derek’s thumb ran down the side of his head, down the thin skin behind the ear. Just for a moment – just long enough for Stiles to register that perhaps it wasn’t just Derek being patronising. Then the pressure was gone, and Derek was on the other side of the display, grabbing a pair of jeans and checking the size.

* * *

 

He ended up buying a few things more than Stiles had expected. He’d not managed to stray from his comfort zone of black and grey, but he’d bought enough clothes to last him a year at least. He’d also bought a bright red t-shirt for Stiles, even though Stiles had kept it back from Derek’s purchases.

“Just hand it over.” Derek sighed, when Stiles stood behind him at the register, cash in hand.

“I’ve got the money here.”

“Hand it over, Stiles, before I beat you to death.”

The cute girl at the register giggled, mouthed to her friend when Derek wasn’t looking ‘so cute!’ which made Stiles feel ill. No one had ever really done that to him, and he could tell Derek knew what was going on. Derek took the t-shirt (the Flash! – so cool) from Stiles and added it to his own pile of clothes. It was kind of obvious what belonged to whom. Derek leaned back and looked at Stiles while the girl totalled everything up. “Do you want to get something to eat now, or just wait till we get home?” Stiles hoped that he wasn’t asking because of the sounds coming from his stomach.

“Well, since the only thing we had this morning was fruit loops, I might actually starve to death before then.”  The girl at the till looked over to her friend and gave an ‘I told you so’ nod that Derek definitely didn’t miss. Stiles wondered what they had been talking about before – one of the disadvantages of being a mere mortal was that all the cool stuff like listening into the conversations of cute girls from across the room was impossible.

Derek paid in cash.

* * *

 

“So what were the girls in the shop talking about?” Stiles asked, swallowing a bite of the baked potato he’d ordered.

“What?” Taking a drink of his soda (Derek apparently had a soft spot for Dr Pepper) he looked at Stiles like he’d lost his mind.

“The girls – the ones in the store.” Stiles clarified. “What were they talking about?”

“I wasn’t paying attention.” Derek lied. And Stiles knew he lied – right at that moment, he knew Derek Hale had lied to him.

“Did they think I was cute?” He continued.

“What?”

“Did. They. Think. I. Was. Cute?”

“They thought we were cute.” Derek said, grudging every word.

“Damn. I should have asked for her number.” Stiles said, looking at the door. “Do you think if I went back they’d remember me?”

“They thought _we_ were cute.” Derek said, and Stiles saw what could only be a red tinge on Derek’s skin. “As in, ‘they are so cute together’.”

Stiles stared at Derek for a few moments, taking in the information. “Oh,” He finally said, taking a scoop of soft potato filling. “Guess asking for her number would be a bit pointless then.”

“Yeah.”

They ate the rest of the meal in silence. Derek paid.

* * *

 

The drive back was quiet, Derek had his shades back on and Stiles spent most of the trip looking out the window at the view. The thing was… it wasn’t awkward – it was a bit like sitting watching the TV at night. Comfortable.

When they’d taken a walk back to the car Stiles had insisted that he carry a few of the bags – and Derek had handed him the one with his Flash t-shirt in. Stiles wondered as they walked back, if the girls in the shop had thought Derek was his older boyfriend – maybe in college or something. He wasn’t really offended, in fact, he didn’t think even Danny had ever been out with a guy as hot as Derek and Danny was pretty good looking himself. Not that Derek and Stiles were dating… but if those girls thought Stiles was good looking enough to date a guy like Derek, then that was a win, right?

“Are we going to the grocery store?”

“Yup.”

“Can we get something more interesting than green beans?”

“Nope.”

“You’re no fun at all.”

* * *

 

It took Stiles a couple of trips to the store with Derek to realise that the wolf actually enjoyed food shopping. He obviously wasn’t too keen on clothes shopping, but when it came to the groceries, the man read every packet, stood for a quarter of an hour comparing two or three different types of butter and refused to put anything in the trolley that he hadn’t personally picked.

Stiles spent most of their previous Saturday shopping trip trying to sneak high sugar items past him. Nothing had made it to the checkout. So he stood and waited with his hands in his pockets as Derek went down every aisle. Tried not to look bored out of his mind when he stood and chatted to the in store butcher (who seemed to have a soft spot for him – judging by the generous cuts) for at least half an hour.

“You look bored.”

“Do I?” Stiles said, glancing down the row of vegetables. “I have no idea why.”

Derek laughed, and that made Stiles smile. “Won’t be long.”

“Promises, promises.”

* * *

 

Derek paid for the food, even though Stiles had the money in his back pocket.

“Do you plan on paying for everything today?” Stiles asked, as they loaded the boot of the car with the paper bags.

“You can pay me back.” Derek said, reaching above him and closing the boot and walking around the car.

By the time Stiles had put the trolley back, the car was out of the parking space and waiting for him at the bay. As he climbed in the car he noticed Derek looking at him strangely, before the wolf put on his shades and drove out of the parking lot.

* * *

 

If there was one thing that Derek did well, it was cook. Stiles had been allowed in the kitchen as long as he didn’t touch anything (which suited him as he had no idea what Derek was doing half the time) and stayed quiet.

He’d never quiet managed that part though, but Derek didn’t seem to care about the constant flow of words that Stiles kept up.

He was making some kind of chicken thing, everything Derek made had some kind of animal in it, and the garlic smell was going around Stiles heart.

“Did you talk to Scott this week?” Derek asked, taking the flat of the knife to crush the garlic on the board.

“Why?” Stiles asked. “Did he say something to you?”

“Scott and I aren’t exactly close.” Derek said, adding the garlic to the pan. “Isaac mentioned that you weren’t talking at school.”

“Isaac needs to mind his own business.” Stiles snapped, seeing red.

“Is it my fault?”

“What?”

“Are you not talking to Scott because of me?” Derek repeated, and Stiles couldn’t believe how… _vulnerable_ Derek looked as he turned back to the cooking food. Stiles had to fight down the urge to wrap his arms about him – it was the strangest moment they’d ever had (including the ‘hard on for Stiles’ incident)

“No.” Stiles said, watching Derek’s back. “I’m not talking to Scott because he’s a self-centred jerk whose life revolves around a girl who spent a week going postal trying to kill everything on four legs and whose crazy grandfather _beat the shit out of me_.” Stiles, who had only been slightly annoyed at Scott a moment ago, was shaking with rage now. “You know, I did everything for him when this whole thing started. I did the research, I didn’t freak out when he tried to kill me, I made sure he knew what would calm him down. I was the one who-” but Derek cut him off with a:

“Scott tried to kill you?”

“Oh, yeah!” Stiles raged. “Never once tried to kill Alison and I’ve known him since he was 3 years old.” He glared at the table. “So much for that.” He’d been keeping his anger under control for months, trying to be the cool best friend who was happy for his buddy, but the floodgates had opened. “He’s got all these awesome super-powers and I’ve got hairline fractures and bruises all over my body because I keep trying to _help_ him.” Stiles couldn’t have shut up if someone handed him a million dollars and a gag. “You know they asked me at the hospital if my dad hit me?” He asked, anger radiating from his voice. “Because it was the only reason they could think that would send me to ER so often. My _dad_.”

He didn’t mean to cry, but he did. Months of being overlooked and beaten up, months of being second to everyone – he sat on the chair and couldn’t stop the angry tears.

Derek was there, suddenly, standing by him and lifting him to his feet.

“How badly are you hurt?” He asked, standing him up.

“What?”

“How badly are you hurt?” Derek nearly roared at him, which snapped Stiles out of his rage and pain.

“It’s not that bad.” Derek was holding him by the shoulders and looked as though he was going to kill him. There was nothing in his eyes, flat with rage, that looked anything like the guy who had been laughing in the clothes store a few hours ago.

“Stiles, if the next words out of your mouth aren’t the truth I swear to god, I’ll kill you.” Derek hissed, eyes turning red.

“I’ve got bruised ribs, I dislocated my shoulder and a hairline fracture in my leg – I didn’t even know!” He managed as Derek gripped his shoulders harder. “It doesn’t hurt! I swear to God, I only know because they gave me a body scan thing!”

“You’re walking about on a broken leg!”

“No! No, It’s not the same thing!” Stiles gasped as Derek’s grip increased. The pain as the Alpha gripped him was enough to make him see stars. “Derek, please, you’re hurting me.”

Derek let go instantly, looking at Stiles as though he was made of hot coals, or snakes, or both. The look of horror and disgust would have been funny if it wasn’t directed at Stiles – and then he was gone.

Out of the kitchen, out of the house – leaving Stiles alone. Again.

* * *

 

“I had to put the chicken in the trash.” Stiles said, sitting on the floor of the living room, TV on. He had a bowl of cereal on his knees. The funny thing was, he didn’t know how he knew Derek was back. The door didn’t open; there was no sound of footsteps. He just knew that he was back in the house and that he would hear what Stiles was saying.

“I brought Chinese.” Derek said, from directly behind the sofa. His voice was relaxed, as though he hadn’t just run out of the house and left Stiles alone for the better part of 6 hours. He wasn’t buying it; there was a trace of guilt in that tone.

“What did you get?” Stiles asked, not turning around.

“Everything.”

“I’m not cleaning anything up; you’re doing all the dishes.”

“Fine.”

Derek brought the food though – enough to feed an actual army of teenagers, Stiles wondered if he actually did ask for everything on the menu. There was, however, a lack of vegetarian dishes. He pulled the coffee table closer and put the food on it. Some was still in the cartons, others on plates.

Instead of sitting on the sofa like normal, though, Derek pulled a cushion down at sat beside Stiles. They were so close that Stiles could actually feel the wolfs body heat seeping into him. It wasn’t unpleasant, he smelt of dark woods and Chinese food.

“Warehouse 13 is on.” Derek suggested, nudging him a little with his arm.

“Only if you promise to let me watch Supernatural tomorrow without bitching.”

“Deal.”

* * *

 

About half way through the show, Derek stretched his legs out alongside Stiles. They were sitting hip to hip, the entire right side of Derek’s body leaning against the left side of Stiles.

It made reaching for the food a little awkward, but neither of them seemed willing to put a little more space between them.

Stiles eventually just pulled one of the tubs down and ate from that, not minding when Derek would take a few forkfuls out.

“Do you think stuff like that is real?” Stiles asked, during a break. “Artefacts and stuff?”

“It’s just a TV show.” Derek said, knocking Stiles shoulder as he leaned forward to grab another plate.

“I know that, but… True Blood is just a TV show and it’s got werewolves in it.” Stiles said, turning slightly to look at Derek. “Are vampires real?”

“No idea.”

“No idea?!” he almost screeched. “You’ve got no idea if life sucking immortals are hanging out at the mall?”

“I can think of a life sucking _mortal_ right now.”

“Funny.” Stiles said, grinning. “Really funny.”

“Do you want a refill?” Stiles asked, getting to his feet. Derek, still sitting on the ground, looked up at him and smiled, holding up his glass.

“Thanks.”

Stiles was in the kitchen pouring a glass of Dr Pepper and a Coke when Scott knocked on the back door. Knowing that Derek would have heard, he opened the door before turning back to pour the rest of his Coke.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

“Is he here?”

“If you mean my dad, then no. If you mean Derek, yes.” Stiles said, picking up the glasses. “We’re watching TV.”

“I need to talk to you.” Scott said, and Stiles was brought back again to that afternoon, the anger and hurt he couldn’t really place.

“Talk.” Stiles said, walking back through to the living room. Derek had moved to the chair, the one where his dad sat. The only pillow on the floor was Stiles. He had no idea why that bothered him – that Derek was now on the other side of the coffee table. It made him angry with Scott, for interrupting, angry with Derek for not having the balls to show Scott they were actually friends. Stiles handed Derek the Dr Pepper, knowing it was written over his face that he wasn’t happy. Derek’s cool expression didn’t change, but Stiles thought he saw a slight change in his shoulders, his eyes – like his whole body was saying ‘sorry’ while his face was saying ‘go fuck yourself’.

“I wanted to talk to you alone.” Scott said, standing in the doorframe.

“Scott, I’m having dinner and watching TV. If you don’t want to talk to me now, why did you come?”

“I didn’t know _he_ was going to be here.”

“ _He_ lives here.” Stiles said through gritted teeth.

“I just wanted to know if you had the notes from Chemistry.” Scott said, eventually, eyeing Derek from the doorframe. Stiles thought it was pretty good how the older wolf managed to convey an air of ‘Do I look like I give a fuck?’ while also looking dangerously alert.

“You took notes.” Stiles said, grabbing the carton that he’d been sharing with Derek, which was now sitting on the table. “And you never understand mine.”

“My notes aren’t… um…” Scott’s voice trailed off as he looked at the food on the table. Stiles wondered if he had eaten.

“Did you spend the entire lesson writing ‘Scott loves Alison’ instead of taking notes again?” All notion of telling Scott to sit down and tuck in to the food was gone. He’d only come here to get Stiles notes so he wouldn’t fail and get kicked off the lacrosse team.

“No! I just… She was right there, and… I just…”

“Scott, you never understand my notes.” Stiles said, taking a scoop of noodles. “So what’s the point?”

“You could help me.” And there it was, like a punch in the gut. He looked at Derek, who was watching the TV as though nothing was happening. But Stiles could feel it, in the pit of his stomach, a low burning pain.

“I’ll give you my notes.” He said, getting to his feet. Ignoring the look Derek threw at him as he led Scott upstairs; he pushed his bedroom door open and dragged Scott inside.

“What’s wrong?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve known you since you were 3 years old, Scott McCall, so if you think you can lie to me, you are so wrong.”

The look on Scott’s face was pained, like he’d eaten a slushie too fast and now felt like he was going to throw blue food colouring all over himself. “Spit it out.”

“I didn’t think he’d be here.”

“Jesus, Scott, get over it! He lives here!” Stiles snapped.

“I came over this afternoon.” Scott said. “Just to hang out, like we used to, but you weren’t here. So I asked Isaac if he’d seen you and he said you’d probably gone to town with Derek.” Stiles tried to block out the image of a kicked puppy from his mind, because that’s exactly what Scott looked like. “Because Derek mentioned that he needed to get some business done.” Scott leaned closer, and whispered, which was stupid, because Stiles knew Derek could hear every word, “You don’t want to be involved in his _business_ , you don’t know what kind of dodgy stuff he’s up to.”

“Scott,” Stiles managed to say through gritted teeth. “I don’t know what you think Derek is up to, but he spent the morning in the office of a bank manager talking about his account, and how he wanted to manage it. He spent the afternoon in GAP and had steak for lunch. He’s really _that_ evil. GAP.” He picked up his Chemistry notes and handed them to his friend. “Take these. I’m sure Alison will be able to work it out.”

* * *

 

Derek was still sitting on the chair when Stiles came back down. The show was over.

“I missed the end, then?”

“Yeah. They worked it out.” Derek said, getting to his feet.

“Shocking.”

“Are you gonna help with the plates?”

“I think I’m still mad at you.” Stiles said, looking at the mass of food left over.

“I’m sorry.” Derek said, walking over and nudging his arm. Stiles pushed back, but Derek was immoveable.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you apologise before.”

“You’ll never hear it again.” Derek frowned, although his tone was friendly. “Can I borrow your laptop later, when you go to bed?”

Stiles picked up a couple of plates and nodded. “I’ll have to delete my browsing history.”

“God, please do – the last thing I need is to open up a website and be blasted with your freaky pornography.”

“Better stay off Tumblr then.” Stiles laughed. “My dash is all Destial porn.”

“You make me feel ill.” Derek said, following him through to the kitchen with plates in his hands. “Its not even a thing in the show.”

“They have moments!” Stiles argued good naturedly.

“Sure.”

* * *

 


	4. Chapter 4

Stiles sat at his usual place at lunch – not really expecting anyone to join him. Scott was over with Alison and Lydia - -he knew that Jackson and the rest of his buddies would make his life hell again if he went over there. So he sat in his usual spot, alone.

Isaac saw him though, and gingerly sat across from him in what used to be Scott’s place with a “Do you mind?”

“Nah, dude.” He said, trying to be cool. After all, wasn’t Isaac the one who’d been spending all this time with Scott?

“Derek doesn’t have your number.” Isaac said apologetically, as though this would make sense to Stiles. He looked at Isaac blankly. “He wanted to tell you he’d leave something in the microwave, but he doesn’t have your number.” Isaac said, handing over a scrap of paper with a number scrawled over it.

“Okay.” Stiles said, pocketing the number. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

They sat in silence for a few moments before Stiles cracked.

“How are you liking work?”

Isaacs face actually lit up as he talked about Dr Deacon and all the animals. Stiles wondered if anyone ever asked him questions about stuff he liked, or if it was all wolfy stuff.

“I mean, mostly I just help clean and stuff, but sometimes I get to watch Dr Deacon work, which is so cool.” Isaac said. “I didn’t really think what I wanted to do, you know… but I’d like to be a vet.” He paused. “A real vet, you know? Nothing… not like…”

“Like a normal vet in a normal town?” Stiles clarified.

“Yeah!” The blond teen smiled, so many perfect white teeth on display. “I told Derek and he said it would be good. I just need to get into college.” Isaac looked down at his food and grinned. “Although that might be a little hard with all the school I missed.”

“If you need help with notes or anything.” Stiles offered.

“I take pretty good notes. Erica helps, when she’s not helping Boyd.” Isaac smiled. “I don’t think Derek would be too happy if I started showing up anyway.”

“Derek wouldn’t mind.” Stiles said, ignoring Isaacs disbelieving look. “Trust me. And I need a lab partner anyway, so why don’t you just come over tonight and we’ll go over anything you are having trouble with?”

“Derek won’t be there.”

“Is that an issue?”

“I don’t think he’d like me being there without supervision.” Isaac said, looking over at him. “In case something went wrong.”

“Out of everyone, I think you are the least likely to go insane and try to eat me.” Stiles grinned. “Come over, we’ll eat whatever is in the microwave and get you into a Veterinarian college.”

He didn’t need to turn around to know that Scott was looking over, and he didn’t need to be a genius to know he’d overheard everything.

* * *

 

‘Got ur number from Isaac.’ Stiles quickly  sent the text on his way to class. ‘Studying w him 2nite – food 4 2?’ He hit send and pocketed his phone. The vibration caught his attention before he reached the classroom door.

‘Yes. Be Careful.’ Popped up on his screen. Stiles grinned. ‘Will not blw up house w chem homewrk. Promise.’

The reply was instant. ‘See You Later.’

* * *

 

Isaac sat on the edge of the bed with books all around him. He’d actually taken really good notes, which Stiles appreciated, especially since he’d given his to Scott.

“So you are living at Erica’s?”

“Yeah, her parents are pretty okay with it – although I think they are just happy she’s better, you know?” Isaac said, reaching for the highlighter. “I think it was pretty hard for them with her fits, they pretty much do anything she wants.”

“That’s good though, that you have somewhere to stay – you know, with adults.” He added, aware that Isaac actually had his own place, the house he shared with his dad was now legally his. It had been empty for a while now though, since Isaac wasn’t earning enough to pay the bills.

“Yeah, they are really nice. I was thinking I’ll sell the house to pay for college.” Isaac said, “If I get in, that is. And then give them some of the money to pay them back for everything they’ve done.”

“That’s pretty decent of you.” Stiles said, but Isaac wasn’t paying him any attention. The sound of a car pulling up in the drive had his full attention.

“Derek is back.” He said, glancing at Stiles, who just nodded. “I should go.”

“Why? I thought you and Derek were okay.”

“We are.” Isaac said, looking at the door. “It’s just maybe he’d rather I wasn’t _here_.”

Derek didn’t call up to announce he was back, but Stiles knew the moment he walked into the house. “I think Derek will understand that you need to study and I need a lab partner. Don’t worry.” He wasn’t talking loud, but knew that the Alpha would be able to hear everything he was saying.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

And he was.

* * *

 

Once Isaac had left, Stiles went into the kitchen an poured himself a glass of Coke, and another Dr Pepper for Derek, who was sitting watching TV in the living room.

“Anything good on?” He asked, walking through and handing him the glass, before pulling the cushion down onto the floor.

“Just this.” The Alpha said, taking a drink and screwing up his face before handing it back to Stiles. “Coke.”

“Sorry.” Stiles said trying not to notice when their fingers touched as they swapped glasses. “Is this Stargate?”

“I raided your DVD collection.” Derek said, nudging him in the shoulder with his leg. “Do you mind?”

“Nah, I love this movie.”

“Did you eat?”

“Yeah, we had the chicken you left in the microwave.” Stiles said, grinning. “Was pretty good, I’d give you four and a half domestic Goddesses out of five.”

“Isaac shouldn’t have been here.” Derek said, not looking at Stiles, who had turned to stare at him.

“Excuse me?”

“He shouldn’t have been here and he knows it.”

“Why, exactly?” Stiles said, temper rising to the surface. He knew Derek could tell he wasn’t happy, the older wolf actually pulled away from him.

“If something went wrong he could have hurt you.” Derek said. “He’s not fully in control of his other side – if he’d lost his temper he might have attacked you.” Stiles was glaring. Actually, full on glaring – at Derek Hale, who was trying to look like he’d rather be anywhere else in the world than sitting on the Stilinski sofa.

“Isaac is perfectly able to go to school, play on the Lacrosse team and get dudes knocking him all over the pitch, but he’s not able to control himself over Chemistry homework?” Stiles said, before he got to his feet. “Did you tell Isaac he wasn’t allowed to come here?!” He half yelled. Derek, who had been sitting back into the sofa, got to his feet. Sometimes it was easy to forget that the wolf was actually not as tall as he appeared – they were about the same height.

“You could get hurt.” Derek said, and Stiles could hear the defensive tone in his voice. “You’ve already got a broken leg.”

“Jesus, Derek!” Stiles said storming out of the room. He didn’t care if he was acting like a kid, he was pissed off. “You can’t stop people from coming over!” He stormed up the stairs. “And my leg is not _broken_.” He got to his room and slammed the door behind him.

* * *

 

Stiles was standing under the hot water of the shower when he knew Derek was in his room.

“Piss off, I’m still mad at you.” He said, standing under the spray, knowing Derek could hear him. Stiles took his time washing, gingerly making sure that he wasn’t pressing too hard on his ribs. At Lacrosse training he’d been slammed by Jackson and the frying pan sized bruise was turning purple and green. His back was criss-crossed with purple lines from the lockers that he was seemingly always getting shoved into. His leg, which was actually the only part of him that didn’t hurt, had stopped swelling and there was only the pale yellow mark covering his calf that hinted of an injury.

The hot water worked magic though, and by the time he stepped out of the spray, he felt relaxed. Roughly towel drying his hair (which needed no more than a swipe to go from wet to dry) he wrapped the towel around his hips and went into his room.

Derek was sitting on the bottom of the bed, where Isaac had been only a few hours before. He was reading the chemistry notes they had gone over, frowning.

“There isn’t anything wrong with our math.” Stiles said, walking past him to get to his wardrobe. “And I told you to get lost.” He added, knowing fine well that Derek wasn’t about to leave till he said whatever it was he had to say.

“I don’t remember ever doing anything like this.” He said, flicking through the notes.

“Yeah, but you went to school before the invention of the wheel, so things change.”

He felt Derek’s eyes on his back when he looked up from the papers in his hands like a physical touch. He knew right away that the wolf had stopped reading.

“Jesus, Stiles.” He groaned, getting to his feet and walking over. “How much damage do you do to yourself?” Derek said, reaching out and touching the bruises on his back. Stiles pulled away.

“Just leave it.” He snapped.

“No.” Derek said, stalking into the bathroom and raking through the cabinet. Stiles seriously hoped he didn’t see the unopened box of condoms. Seriously prayed for a good 5 seconds before Derek came back holding a tube of something.

Stiles knew the first thought he had was going to send him right to hell, because seeing Derek standing there with a serious expression on his face and staring at him intently – Stiles thought it was lube. Just for an instant, he thought Derek had been looking for _lube_.

“Arnica.” The Alpha said, looking at him with an odd expression. “You should be using this all the time.”

It took a few moments for his words to sink in. “Yeah.” Stiles managed. “The Doctor gave it to me for my leg.”

“You need to use it,” Derek said, voice serious. “Those bruises look like hell.”

“They don’t just ‘look’ like hell.” Stiles said, praying that Derek hadn’t noticed that Stiles body was being a total fucker. His earlier thought of Derek and Lube in the same sentence had bypassed his brain and went right to his groin, and his groin wasn’t paying attention to the frantic ‘desist’ warnings he was trying to send it.

“Do you need help to get the ones on your back?” Derek asked, and Stiles managed to keep the groan that started in his chest from escaping. The last thing he needed was this conversation. He shook his head. “Stiles, put some pants on and I’ll put this on the ones on your back.”

“It’s okay.”

“No it’s not. Pants.”

* * *

 

Derek had left only long enough for Stiles to get his jeans on – He was just buttoning up when the wolf stalked back into the room.

“Sit.” He said, pointing to the end of the bed.

“This isn’t really-” Stiles started to say, only to have Derek cut him off with another bark of ‘Sit!’.

Doing as he was told, he sat on the edge of the bed. Derek sat behind him, he could tell by the movement of the bed that he was leaning on his knee.

The first touch of the cold cream combined with the rough touch of Derek’s hand made him gasp.

“Dude! You are supposed to be helping, not giving me more damn bruises!” He said, trying to adjust so Derek wouldn’t see the bulge in his jeans. For some reason, Derek getting a hard on for _him_ was funny as hell, but Stiles getting a hard on for _Derek_ wasn’t funny. At all. He was **_mortified_**.

“Shut up.” Derek said, but his next touch was softer. The cold cream quickly adjusted to his temperature as Derek ran his hands over the extensive bruising on Stiles back. It was nice, Stiles admitted. Almost relaxing – if it wasn’t for the blood leaving his brain to arrive at his _other_ head.

“My sister swore by this stuff.” Derek said. “She was born a human, it happens sometimes.”

“Laura?”

“No. Sarah. She was killed in the fire.” Derek’s voice was a million miles away. “She was older than Laura and I by a few years.”

“Born human?”

“Yeah. Sometimes it happens. She didn’t want to be changed, didn’t want the bite – and my dad… he was okay with that. She’d always end up covered in bruises cause we were never careful enough.” Derek added more cream to his hands and started rubbing it into the blooming purple and green bruise on his ribs. Stiles didn’t even think he was aware of what he was doing, just working on auto pilot. “She would go through tubes of this stuff, said it was like magic. I never really understood why dad would get so angry when we would play fight, until I saw mom rubbing this stuff on her back.” Derek had one hand on the base of stiles neck, the other paused at his ribs. “She was like you, just covered, _covered_ in these bruises.” Derek sighed. “She never complained, and we didn’t know.”

“You were just kids.”

“She was my _sister_.” Derek said, and Stiles didn’t need to turn around to see the expression on Derek’s face. His voice was loaded with self-loathing and pain. “I loved her, and I _hurt_ her – and I didn’t even know.”

“You didn’t do this to me, Derek.” Stiles said, turning on his hip to face the Alpha. “No one did this to me. I play lacrosse, I get thrown about on the pitch all the time.” Derek was still holding on to the back of Stiles neck, even though Stiles had turned to face him. The hand that was on his ribs had dropped to his waist, resting on the band of his jeans.

“You shouldn’t be hurt.” Derek managed, and Stiles saw real pain in his eyes. Unthinking he reached out and touched the wolf on the shoulder.

“I’m okay.”

“No, you’re not.” Derek said before tightening the grip on the back of Stiles neck and pulling him forward….

* * *

 

Derek had kissed him. Derek had kissed the _fuck_ right out of him. DEREK.

Stiles lay in bed knowing that he wasn’t going to get to sleep any time soon, because his cock had remained rock hard for hours. He was still hard.

Because Derek Hale had kissed him.

Stiles tried to remember what had happened. One moment he was telling Derek he was okay, and the next instant the wolf had pulled him closer and…

Stiles had kissed him. Stiles! **_He’d_** started it. Derek hadn’t moved, just kind of sat with his hand on the back of Stiles neck, and the other resting on his waistband. It took a second for Stiles to realise that he was actually kissing DEREK FUCKING HALE and he pulled back. Tried to pull back, at least, because Derek still had him by the back of the head and he wasn’t moving.

Stiles felt his face flood with embarrassment, tried to pull away – and _then_ Derek had moved. Pulled him closer, the hand at his waist sliding around to the base of his back and applying just enough pressure to make Stiles arch. Derek had actually growled as his tongue slipped into Stiles mouth, pulled him even closer so that they were pressed tightly against each other.

At some point Derek had pushed him down onto the bed and had pulled off his own shirt. The feel of skin on skin made Stiles groan in pleasure, then suck in a breath as Derek had rocked his hips against him. The buttons on their jeans scraped and rubbed together as they both tried to find their release. Derek was hard, so very, _very_ hard – and Stiles couldn’t stop himself from reaching down and cupping the Alpha through his black jeans.

Derek howled, actually howled – eyes turning red as he threw his head back - Stiles could feel the sharper nails on his back as Derek started to shift. Then he’d rocked into Stiles hand at the same time he’d leaned down and licked the long vein up the side of Stile neck. Stiles couldn’t help the shudder running through him as he arched. Derek continued to lick and suck the sensitive skin on Stiles neck as he rocked his hips. Stiles couldn’t stop the groans that escaped his lips as Derek slid a hand down his flat stomach, stopping at the waistband of his jeans.

Stiles arched his back and whimpered as Derek ran his hand further down, teeth scraping against Stiles collarbone. His cock was actually hurting it was so hard, and when Derek’s hand rubbed down the fly of his jeans, Stiles felt like he was going to die. All he could think about was the feeling of Derek’s hand on the denim over his cock, the sound of Derek growling as Stiles hand cupped and rubbed him through his black jeans, the feel of Derek’s mouth on the base of his throat – skin on skin as they pushed and pulled together.

Stiles actually heard it before Derek - which went pretty far to show just how far the wolf was gone - the sound of his dads car door slamming. He froze at the sound, Derek pulling back and looking at him in dazed confusion, before he heard the sound of key’s in the lock.

The wolf had actually _launched_ himself out of the room, leaving Stiles lying on the bed – hot as hell and harder than steal.

* * *

 

He’d slept in. After a night of staring at the ceiling and praying for sleep, he’d actually slept in.

Diving for his clothes and bag, he pulled on the first things that he could reach, scrambling down the stairs and heading right for the door, praying that he’d get to school before first bell – his dad had some pretty strict rules when it came to skipping classes and the last thing he needed was a lecture.

No one paid him any attention when he dove into class with just seconds to spare, almost collapsing into his assigned chair. Isaac, sitting a row away gave him a puzzled look before paying attention to the teacher. It was Lydia, who sat in the row behind him, that kicked his chair and gave him the thumbs up when he turned to face her. ‘Good for you!’ she mouthed, giving him a wink.

At the buzzer he got to the washrooms and looked in the long mirror running down the wall above the sinks when he saw why Lydia had been grinning.

The black t-shirt he’d grabbed off the floor wasn’t his. It obviously wasn’t his because Stiles didn’t own a single item of black clothing that wasn’t for a funeral. He looked good though, aside from the massive hickie on the side of his neck – right over his jugular.

The rest of the school was going to know that Stiles had made out with _someone_ , but the wolves were going to know who he’d been making out with – because he was pretty sure Derek’s T-shirt was going to smell like _Derek_.

“Shit.”

* * *

 


	5. Chapter 5

Stiles tried to avoid the werewolves of Beacon Hills High for as long as he could, but there was no getting away from Lydia – who had been waiting for him outside the washrooms.

“So, spill.” She commanded, and for the first time in his life, Stiles didn’t want to talk to her. The hottest, smartest girl in school was literally begging him to talk to her as he tried to ignore her. People who hadn’t noticed Stiles in the years he’d been there were suddenly looking at him. Looking at the way Lydia was grabbing his arm and commanding that he talk to her.

He was doing okay too, until she actually dragged him into an empty classroom and slammed the door. “If you don’t tell me RIGHT NOW,” She hissed. “I will personally kick the crap out of you.” She paused. “And then I’ll tell the entire school you made out with a vacuum.”

“You wouldn’t do that.” Stiles said, she was Lydia – she wasn’t cruel.

“I _will_ beat the crap out of you.” She said, checking her perfect manicure before glaring at him. “I will not be the last to know what is going on this time.”

“Look, Lydia.” Stiles said, watching the flow of bodies past the window in the door. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Did someone do this without your consent?” She asked suddenly, grabbing his arm, eyes ablaze with anger.

“God, no, Lydia!” Stiles said, panicking. “Nothing like that! I just… I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I thought we were friends.” She pouted, and God, didn’t she just look adorable when she pouted?

“You did? We are!” He stammered. “We are friends. It’s just… I’m not sure… he might not want people knowing.”

“Oh.” Lydia said, then louder: “OH!” She paused. “I thought you were in love with me.” Good old selfish Lydia.

“I was. I am!” Stiles said, then stopped. “I thought I was.”

“Stiles… you’re making out with a guy!” She grinned, skipping around the room. “Oh my God!” She froze. “You’re making out with Isaac!”

“What?” Stiles half yelled, this really wasn’t a conversation he wanted to be having.

“You had a study date with Isaac last night… and you show up this morning with a hikie.” She stared. “I mean, he’s super cute, so go you. But… Isaac?”

“You think he’s cute?” Stiles said, before his brain caught up. “I’m not making out with Isaac!” He hissed. “Seriously, Lydia,” He added when he saw her expression. “It’s not Isaac and I don’t think he’d be all that happy if you start spreading it around that he’s making out with me when he’s really, _really_ not.”

“I know it’s not Danny.”

“It’s not Danny.”

“You have to tell me.” Lydia groaned. “I have to know first.”

“Why is it so important to you?” Stiles snapped, temper getting the best of him.

“Because if someone says you’re making out with a guy I want to be the one who tells them its old news.” She said. “I need for people to know I’m still first.”

Stiles looked at the girl he’d loved since 3rd grade and sighed. “Lydia… Jackson probably already knows, so does Scott and Isaac and Erica and Boyd.”

“And Peter and Derek?” she added, looking at him. She knew about the wolves now, knew all about the pack.

“Ah, yes, probably Peter.”

“And Derek?”

“Derek knows.” Stiles said. “Derek _definitely_ knows.” He watched as light dawned on her face.

“Oh, My GOD!” She half screamed, ignoring Stiles frantic waves to keep her voice down. “Oh my GOD!” She said, facing the door for a few seconds before turning to look at him. “Oh. My. God.” She said, grabbing his arm. “He’s… he’s…” Lydia seemed lost for words for a moment before she snapped out of it. “He’s super-hot. Like… super, _super_ hot. And older. And dangerous.” She looked him right in the eyes. “And _older_. Like… its illegal for him to be making out with you kind of older.” She paused. “Which makes it hotter. _Oh my god_ , Stiles.”

“Lydia, I really don’t want this to get out.” Stiles half begged. “Please, please! I’m not even sure if it’s a thing or just a… a… one off or something. I really don’t want to be _outed_.” He said, holding on to her arm, hoping that she could see just how bad things would be if Stiles was known to be gay. It was okay for Danny, huge muscular Danny who could hold his own in a fight, but little skinny Stiles wouldn’t cope quite so well. Especially since people would assume he was the _girl_. Or whatever.

“What… oh.” Lydia said. “Oh, okay.” She paused. “You know I’m totally supportive and here for you.” She added. “I wouldn’t do that to you, Stiles. If anyone gives you crap for this, they’ll need to go through me.” Seeing the look on his face, she grinned. “And by me, I mean Jackson – who will do anything I tell him to do if he ever wants sex again.”

 

* * *

 

Lunch was not cool. Isaac looked like he was going to sit somewhere else until Stiles waved him over.

“Are you going to start ignoring me now?” Stiles asked as Isaac gingerly put his tray down. Guilt washed over his face as he blushed.

“It’s just… he’s my Alpha.” Isaac explained. “And he’s pretty much able to kick my ass, twice, without even breaking a sweat.” He sat down, looking like he wanted to crawl away. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to treat you.”

“Like you did yesterday!” Stiles snapped, then felt bad as Isaac actually flinched. “Isaac, nothing has changed.”

“But…” Isaac said, voice low, “He’s my Alpha, and that makes you… like… not just _normal_ anymore.”

“Look, it was a one-time thing, it’s done, over.” Stiles explained, desperately hoping to finish this conversation before the rest of the wolves arrived. “I’d really appreciate it if you’d just… let it go.” He paused. “Do you think the rest of them know?”

Isaac’s look of ‘duh’ was enough to make Stiles groan into his tots.

 

* * *

 

He felt Scott and Jackson walk into the lunch hall, he didn’t even need to turn his head. Spending all this time with wolves was sharpening his survival instincts. Isaac, who was chatting away about their upcoming Chemistry lab didn’t give anything away in his flow of conversation that anything was wrong, unusual or damn strange about Stiles wearing Derek’s clothes to school. For that, Stiles wanted to hug him, thank God for that wolf.

Scott grabbed his lunch and slammed his tray down to one side of Stiles – totally walking past Alison to get to him.

“What the hell are you doing?!” He yelled, and every head turned to face them. Scott hated attention like this, but right now he didn’t even seem to be aware they were being stared at.

“We’re talking about Chemistry.” Isaac said, picking up his notes and waving them in front of Scott’s face. Stiles actually felt like leaning over the table and kissing him for that, because Scott looked equal parts confused and pissed off.

“You know that’s not what I’m talking about.” Scott snapped.

“Leave it.” Stiles said, taking a drink of his water.

“Leave it!” Scott roared. “I’m not going to _leave it_! What the hell are you thinking?”

“Shut UP.” Stiles snapped, and he was sure he was going insane, because when he spoke… it didn’t sound like him. Well… it did, it was his voice… but it wasn’t. And Scott did shut up. And so did Isaac, and Jackson – and Erica and Boyd who were talking by the door – in fact they were all looking at him like he’d just HULK SMASHED through the damn table. Not sure what to do, Stiles grabbed his tray and left Scott and Isaac sitting silent at the table as he stormed out.

* * *

 

He rubbed the Arnica cream on his ribs and the part if his back he could reach, trying desperately not to think of the last time he’d sat on the edge of his bed and this stuff got rubbed on him. He looked at the label, and tried to remember what exactly the Dr had told him. “Every day.” He’d commanded. “Till you stop getting thrown about.” Which, looking back, Stiles didn’t think was going to happen any time soon. Scott had avoided him for the rest of the day, and Isaac too – which sucked, because Stiles really, really hated being by himself all the time.

Derek wasn’t home either, so he’d shut his room door and pretended like it didn’t suck total balls. There was food in the microwave, but he didn’t want to eat alone at the table, and sitting in the living room watching TV just seemed like something he did with Derek… so he’d taken it up to his room and eaten while he did his homework. A quick shower, trying not to notice in the mirror that the hikie on his neck was just the only one people could see – and the moment the soapy water hit his back he just knew that there were scratches from Derek’s damn wolfy claws. He turned in the mirror to get a look and sure enough – almost down the entire length of his back were shallow grazes. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to put the cream over those, but he did anyway. It was soothing, took away the burn – he guessed that made it okay.

His dad arrived at 9, typically late – he was pretty much always at the station these days. Stiles grabbed his t-shirt ( _his_ t-shirt, not the one that belonged to Derek which was at the very bottom of the laundry pile) and made sure that the neck was pulled up high enough to hide the bruise. Grabbing his hoodie as well, just to make sure, he zipped it up and went down stairs to see his dad.

He was sitting at the kitchen table going through the mail, a few bills opened – red everywhere. Stiles hated it, hated seeing them and being reminded that his dad didn’t work all those hours because he _wanted_ to. There was Stiles hospital bills in there too – great. Did it say exactly what he needed a full body scan for? His dad would actually kill him if he found out that Stiles had broken bones (even if it didn’t hurt) and hadn’t told him. But he didn’t lift his head from the fat letter in his hands. The paper looked different from the bills, thicker, heavier. There was a seal on the top.

“Hey dad.” Stiles said.

“Hey kid.” His dad said, looking up from the letter. “What do you make of this?” He gave the letter to Stiles who quickly scanned the contents.

“Who is Harriett Genaim?” He asked, as his eyes scanned over what really couldn’t be true.

“No idea. It says in there she was your mom’s aunt, but I didn’t remember – she lived up in Denver – your mom never really talked about her family much.”

“It says here she died last year.” He read, faster. “Her estate was sold to pay for debts and the funeral.” He scanned further. “A few personal effects and any funds left from the sale of the property were to go to her Grandnephew. Me.” He looked at his dad, who was holding what could only be a cheque in his hands like it was going to burst into flames. “How much was left?”

His dad mutely handed over the thin paper and Stiles read the number. He read it again. And again. “Jesus.”

* * *

 

Turns out that his mom’s side of the family were all a little freaky, and she left when she was pretty young. She’d fallen in love with a cop in a small town and planned to live happily ever after. Only… she hadn’t. Her family had cut her off when she left, it was all in the letter from his dead aunts lawyers. They were rich, old and insane, and Stiles was all that was left.

His dad wanted him to keep the money, keep it for his future – but Stiles had insisted. They’d pay of the mortgage, clear the bills, get better medical cover… It wasn’t enough for his dad to leave his job, but it was enough to make sure Stiles was going to college (any college he wanted) and they’d have enough left over to live pretty sweetly. He couldn’t believe his luck – he felt a bit guilty for being so happy – but what teenager doesn’t want an unknown dead relative to leave them a fortune?

* * *

 

Derek didn’t get back till after midnight. His dad offered him a drink to celebrate, and told Derek all about Stiles dead aunt as they sat and shared a whiskey. Derek looked pretty surprised at first, then settled into a sort of frown.

“I came into some money.” Derek told his dad. “I was hoping to give you some, for having me here.”

“No need.” His dad waved it off, happily dipped in alcohol. “Keep it, do something with it. Rebuild that house, or build a new one.” He stopped. “You’re not that old, go back to School, go to college. My boy, he can go wherever he wants to now. Anywhere.”

“Yeah.” Derek said. “Anywhere.” Although he didn’t sound too happy about it.

Stiles left them sitting at the table, feeling a bit strange having Derek there, when he was trying not to let his dad see the hikie on his neck – the one that Derek put there.

* * *

 

He was sitting on the edge of his bed checking his Tumblr dash to check out all the new Destiel gifs and fics when his bedroom door opened and Derek walked in. Stiles stared at him for a few moments before he hissed. “Dude! Knock? I could have been doing anything in here.”

“I would have heard.” Derek said, leaning against the door frame. For some reason the thought of Derek hearing ‘anything’ Stiles might be doing made him feel mortified. Had he been listening? Could he hear every time Stiles… took matters into his own hands? Cause last night he’d been at it at least 5 times when Derek left. Damn.

“Still.” He said, wishing he was wearing more than his boxers. “I’m going to bed.” He said, as though he had to explain himself.

“About last night.” Derek said, and Stiles just wished the bed would fall through the floor.

“Can we not talk about it?” He pleaded. “I mean, really, not talk about it? Ever?”

“I just wanted…” Derek ran his hands through his hair. “Sorry. I just wanted to say I was sorry.”

“Oh.”

“It won’t happen again.”

“Okay.”

“Did you tell anyone?”

“They knew.”

Derek just shrugged. “It’ll blow over.” And walked out, the door barely making a click as it shut.

* * *

 

Things went back to normal, kind of, in the Stilinski house. Derek who had taken his dads advice, spent most of his time on the new laptop he’d bought (no need for Stiles to keep clearing his history anymore) looking at online courses for colleges, or spent his time looking at property online. He’d told his dad over dinner that he’d thought about going into property development, maybe buy a few houses and see how it worked out – he had the money.

“I think that is a great idea.” His dad said, grinning and giving him a hearty pat on the shoulder. “Renting property is becoming more popular in this economy – not everyone can buy, or get a loan from the bank.”

“Thanks, sir.” Derek had smiled. His dad really liked Derek, which was weird on so many different levels. His dad had been trying to get home at more reasonable times – Stiles got a new medical plan that covered him totally for pretty much everything. Derek had taken him to the hospital for a full medical to complete the cover.

He’d sat outside the room while the Doctor talked to him, but Stiles knew he could hear every word.

“Your leg is pretty much brand new, ribs are mending well. I’m a little concerned about the bruises though – they should be healing and their just as bad as they were last time. Are you using the cream?”

“Yes.”

“We’ll give you a more concentrated formula then, its herbal, so you don’t need to worry about side effects. And make sure you get it on those ones on your back, they look like they are getting worse.”

“I will.”

And he did – not that he had much option, because Derek pretty much knocked on his door once he’d heard the shower go off and slathered his back in the stuff before stalking out of the room. He never said anything, or did anything else – they never sat on the bed, Stiles stood rubbing the cream on his ribs while Derek stood behind him and did his back.

They watched TV, but Derek went back to sitting on the sofa and never, ever let Stiles lean against his leg.

And Stiles was disappointed.

Really, really disappointed.

* * *

 

It was the next week that Jackson slammed into him at Lacrosse. The Pain rang through him like a bell, but he managed to stay on his feet. How he managed to keep upright was beyond him, but at least Jackson wasn’t cheating and using his wolfy powers – Stiles normally ended up half way down the field looking up at the clouds if he did that.

Their pads had crashed against each other and Stiles had pushed back, fed up at the way he was being treated on the pitch.

Scott acted like Stiles wasn’t even playing, and the anger he felt about that was starting to show. Afterall, Stiles had made first line – made first line and kicked ass too – without needing an Alpha to bite him. Scott should have been happy, but all he did was ignore him. He didn’t stop anyone from using Stiles as their own personal tackle dummy.

So when Jackson slammed into him, Stiles slammed right back – and tried to ignore the look on the other teens face, pretended he didn’t hear the pop as the bone in Jacksons arm re-set.

“What the hell just happened?” Isaac said, when the rest of the team went off to shower. They were the only people on the pitch.

“What do you mean?”

“You broke Jacksons arm!”

“It was an accident!”

“Are you paying attention, Stiles?” Isaac said, grabbing him by the shoulders and looking at him in the eyes. “Jackson could kick your ass before he was a wolf. He could _kill_ you now. And you just broke his arm!” He pulled back a little, putting some space between them. “Stiles – did Derek turn you?”

“What?” Stiles said, in shock. “No! Jesus, no! Why would you say that?”

“Because **_I_** can’t brake Jackson’s arm just by shoving him. And I’m a _werewolf_.”

 

* * *

 


	6. Chapter 6

Stiles wasn’t really sure what to do. I mean... Isaac had a point – had Derek turned him? Was he undergoing some freaky change between human and wolf that he wasn’t aware of?

But... he knew, knew inside that the shallow marks on his back that had faded so much he could hardly see them wouldn’t do it. And Derek hadn’t bitten him – oh, he’d kissed the crap out of him, but he’d never actually bitten him.

So what was going on?

* * *

 

He stepped out from under the shower and turned off the hot water. He didn’t bother with the towel – letting the water run down his body as he stared at himself in the mirror. The bruises were there, a lovely new one forming on his shoulder where Jackson had slammed into him. The others were still there too – like each bruise had got to  the point where they looked the worst... then just stopped getting better. His entire torso and back was a mass of blue and purple marks – it was impossible to see where one stopped and the other started.

But there were changes. He had put on weight, his chest seemed wider, his stomach more defined. Was it possible to hit a second puberty? Was that what was going on? Had he hit a stage when he was going to start looking like a real guy and not just a skinny kid? He opened the medicine cabinet and pulled out the tube of Arnica and rubbed some onto the new bruise that was forming. He tried not to look at the unopened box of condoms, with the thin layer of dust over the top – and totally ignored the brand new tube of lube that he’d bought after _that_ kiss. Just in case.

The cream soothed instantly, he sometimes felt like he could feel it working. Only... it wasn’t working. The bruises weren’t fading, if anything – he looked worse. He felt great, but he looked like hell.

Grabbing his jeans he pulled them over his wet skin. Derek was already standing in his room, waiting for Stiles to throw the tube at him. He could hear the wolf breathing. Huff puff.

As he walked through to his room, he noticed Derek had on his regular black jeans and one of the grey t-shirts he’d bought at the GAP with him. And just seeing it made Stiles feel bad. A few weeks ago they’d been laughing in a store, cute girls thinking they were a couple – they’d watched TV together on the floor, he’d been laughing at Stiles stupid jokes and his obsession that Dean really just needed to open his damn eyes because Castiel was totally gagging for it (how fucking ironic). So when Derek stood there in that T-shirt that Stiles picked, he felt like crying. It was like losing Scott – only worse because Scott hadn’t given him a hickie that refused to fade.

Derek held out his hand for the tube, and Stiles threw it at his head. Of course the wolf caught it, didn’t need to even look when his hand shot out and grabbed it.

“You need more of this.”

“Yeah, I can pick it up after school tomorrow.”

“Isaac said you were still benched?”

Oh, and didn’t that just suck all kinds of balls? He’d been benched because coach had seen the bruises that were all over his body. And freaked out. So he was on a medical break – in other words, back to second string.

And Scott had been happy. Happy that Stiles was on the bench and he wasn’t. Isaac had been happy too – but for different reasons. He was worried, worried about Stiles and his stupid temper and bruises and the fact that he broke Jacksons arm by accident.

“Yup.”

“That might be a good thing.”

“Yeah, cause being kicked off the team is awesome.” Stiles said, turning his back on the wolf. “Best thing that’s happened to me in weeks.”

Derek rubbed the lotion into his back. There was no point in him trying to single out each bruise now – there was more bruises than pale skin now – so he just started at the neck and worked his way down.

“You know that’s not what I meant.” Derek said, and Stiles could feel the frustration pour out of the Alpha.

“I know.” He sighed, as Derek added more cream to his back. “I just really hate being benched again. Like before.”

“I made dinner.” Derek said, once he’d finished. He threw the finished tube in the trash can by Stiles desk and left. Stiles guessed he should be happy – it was the most the grumpy assed wolf had said to him weeks.

* * *

 

They ate dinner in the livingroom. Derek had been working his way through the Stilinski family DVD collection and had reached the Westerns. Stiles hated cowboy movies.

“Can we please watch something else?” He begged. “Anything else?”

“No.”

“Derek.” Stiles moaned, “I’ll keep talking the whole way through this movie and I’ll keep talking until you do what I want.”

“Shut up and eat.” Derek said, eyes on the TV. Stiles groaned as though he was in actual pain, putting his plate on the coffee table and lifting his cushion back onto the sofa. Clambering onto the sofa, he sat himself right down beside Derek.

“I’m going to talk the whole way through this film. I’m going to sit here and talk and talk and you’re eventually going to give in because you know I’m serious.”

Stiles though for a moment Derek was going to either kill him or kiss him – both preferable to sitting through one of his dads westerns – but he didn’t.

“Fine, put what you want on.” He said, handing the remote to Stiles, making sure their fingers didn’t touch.

And Stiles was pissed. Really, really pissed off that he’d given in. Pissed that he’d not even thought it was worth arguing over, which was stupid, because he didn’t _want_ to argue with Derek.

“Never mind. I’ve got homework anyway.” Stiles said, climbing off the sofa and grabbing his plate. He threw the remote back on the sofa where he had been sitting and stalked out, furious with himself.

He was acting like a child. No wonder Derek was avoiding him. He’d made a mistake and kissed a kid who’d become a total fucking creeper over it. Stiles needed to get a life, because he was starting to obsess over **_Derek Hale_** and that wasn’t cool. Really wasn’t cool.

“Idiot.” He muttered, turning on his laptop. He ate his dinner (steamed chicken and veg – was fucking amazing) while flicking through his dash.

* * *

 

When he got back from school the next day (with a plan to avoid thinking about Derek Hale firmly in place) His dad had left a note pinned to the fridge.

‘Trunk upstairs. For you – arrived with this letter.’

It was from his dead aunts solicitors. The personal effects had arrived.

* * *

 

The case was full of books. Note books mostly. Although nothing like he’d ever seen before. They were all bound in leather, looked hand stitched. Some even had etched drawings on the covers.

But inside…

Pages and pages of hand drawn illustrations, notes, poems. Each one written in different handwriting. There were additional notes, side points. A few even had faded photographs pinned to the thick pages.

**_Learn your Herbs._ **

**_Your blood is closely attuned to the earth. Typical medication may not affect you as well as others. Herbal mixtures and teas will aid you more than Western Medicine. Be warned – some herbs will cause great changes in the body._ **

**_Arnica – Apply sparingly. Effects blood cells. Depending on familiar can be deadly or extremely powerful._ **

**_Camomile – In tea will help calm and settle minds. Often used by those guided by Spiders or insects. Will aid in concentration. ((Very useful))_ **

**_Honey – Mixed with teas will boost immune system. Has limits. No need to measure – no negative side effects._ **

**_Research is vital. Normal effects of herbs may have extreme reactions with you. Always test first._ **

**_Your familiar will effect strength of results._ **

 

This was Harry Potter type stuff. These were Neville Longbottoms herbology books or some crap like that. No wonder his mom had left if this was the kind of things that they thought was normal.

He still read everything though. Sat on his bedroom floor and read each book cover to cover. This was… herbs, old recipes and tea making guides and then thrown in amongst it, insane stuff like:

**_Familiars are guides, normally animals, which bestow their natural gifts to us._ **

**_They may not at first be apparent. They are not always pets._ **

**_The stray cat that shows up every day, The bird that nests outside your bedroom window. ((NEVER ASSUME.))_ **

**_Typical Familiars:_ **

**_Cats: The most common and widely known. They promote grace, cunning and independence. Downside: They can cause those they guide to distance themselves from others. ((wicked witch syndrome))_ ** **_ß DAMN RIGHT!_ **

**_Spiders: Very common but often misunderstood. They promote patience, planning and occasionally defensive Skills. Downside: Can often cause those they guide OCD._ **

**_Birds: Not as common anymore. They promote speed, memory and in rare cases increase logical thinking. Downside: They can cause dependence issues / emotional distress._ **

**_Dogs: They promote loyalty, empathy and sometimes speed. Downside: They are not always intelligent._ **

 

Jesus. Had they been in some kind of witchy-poo cult or something? This was like those books he’d loved as a kid, when his mom had freaked out and taken them all out of his room. No wonder, she’d obviously gone through a lot of this crap when she was younger and didn’t want him around it.

He’d almost missed it. Almost didn’t see the book at the very bottom. Bound in soft red leather, he picked it up and opened the first page.

Lore of Beasts.

He read a few pages and stared at the books scattered around him in a whole new light. In his hand he had his own Bestiary. His own full on ‘Charmed’ moment.

Now this…. _This_ was fucking MAGIC.

* * *

 

Turning off the hot water and stepping out from under the spray, he listened for any sounds in the house. No one was home. He’d blown off school – text Isaac and told him not to tell Derek he’d skipped class. The last thing he needed was for the wolf to show up if he was going to do something that may end up making him look like a total idiot if nothing happened.

He’d driven into the city – Beacon Hills was an okay town but he needed a few very specific things. A google search named two places where he could get what he needed. The first was a huge store, filled with candles and pentagrams and women who wore long flowing skirts and lots of jewellery. He felt like an idiot as soon as he walked in with his list.

“Can I help you?” The woman behind the desk said, floating over in a cloud of perfume that made his eyes water.

“I’m looking for comfrey leaves.” He said, “And…”

“We have oils infused with comfrey essence.” She said, waving a bangled arm over the walls of glass vials. “Very good for healing.”

“I need the leaves.” He said, as people started looking at him.

“We don’t have those.” She said, softly. “The oils though…”

“Nevermind.”

* * *

 

 

**_Rare/Mythical Familiars:_ **

**_Sprites/Kelpies/Halfinches/Fay or similar – once common, now almost extinct. Very little is known about magik / supernatural guides. They were misunderstood as powers shared were often uncontrollable._ **

**_Further research will be required. ((VERY DANGEROUS))_ **

* * *

 

 

The next place was tiny. Cramped. There were bunches of roots hanging from the beams of the roof. He’d had to walk through China Town to get there, leaving his car on the main street as he tried to find his way to the tiny shop.

“I’m looking for comfrey leaves.” He told the old man at the counter. He looked like one of those old guys in Kung-Fu movies, the white pointed beard and aged about a million years old.

“We have those.” He said, in a strange half English accent. Stiles felt bad for assuming that he’d talk like Mr Miyagi.

“Do you have these?” He said, handing over his list. He’d put down everything he thought he might need from the books.

“This we have. This we’ll order. This we cannot do.” He said marking the list with a pencil. “Until they make it legal.”

“I’m making herbal teas for… a project. Nothing illegal.”

The old man gave Stiles a very odd look as he worked down his list. “These are very… specific.” He commented. “Black Mountain Ash?” He said, glancing now at the list and back to Stiles. “We can get this. Very rare. Not often needed for _tea making_.”

“Very _specific_ tea.” Stiles said, as the old man smiled.

“Yes, I understand. I can give you some of these now, others will need ordered. You will pay for everything today.”

* * *

 

He’d crushed a single dried leaf in the pestle that Derek had bought for the kitchen. He was the only one that used it – so Stiles made sure he washed it out really well before putting it back. He didn’t want the Alpha to know what he’d been doing. The fine powder didn’t look like anywhere near enough for what he needed, but the book he was working from had been very clear. Test everything first.

 

**_Testing:_ **

**_Mix honey & a small crushed/chopped/drop of item. Mix well. DO NOT INGEST. Apply a small rubbing to the skin just below the knee. Wait 24 hours. Any effects must be documented. Skin discolouration is a sign of altered blood. Black = Bad. Burning that lasts more than 30 seconds after application is a sign of danger. Clean well with mild tea or lemon juice. _ **

**_If no negative effects:_ **

**_Mix sample with food. Be warned – use a very small dose and a lot of food (ice cream is ideal) Effects may be instant or take up to one full day. Remember – NEVER MIX MORE THAN ONE HERB AT A TIME. They may mask effects. Honey is the only neutral base._ **

 

He tipped the powder in a plastic tub and poured honey over it. Mixed it well – really well, until the honey was almost white with the air he’d whipped in it.

It was sitting on the sink now, the little air bubbles risen to the surface. Sitting on the edge of the toilet he used a spoon to add the honey to the bruise on his thigh. Nothing happened.

He felt like a fucking idiot, as the honey mixture started to run down his thigh. Using a wet cloth, he wiped it off and pulled on his jeans. Leaving the tub on his sink, he picked up the leather bound book and re-read it.

It was interesting, and read like it might work – but he’d been stupid to think it was actually _real_.

* * *

 

“Did you do whatever it was you needed yesterday?” Isaac asked, walking around the huge auditorium. The School had insisted that his year should attend a careers event in the city – there were a few other schools from around the state as well, it was kind of strange to see some kids in uniform – guys walking about like they were in Dalton Academy or something. He half expected them to burst into song.

“Yeah.” He said. “Yeah – thanks for not telling Derek.” He added, knowing that it was difficult for him to keep things from his Alpha.

“It’s okay I just…” Isaacs voice trailed off as his eyes stared past Stiles shoulder. Turning, he couldn’t see anything, just people. Lot of people.

“Are you okay?”

“Do you see her?”

“Who?”

“Her.” Isaac hissed. “The girl in the green.”

“There are about forty girls in green, Isaac.” Stiles said, elbowing him in the ribs. “You’ll need to be more specific.”

“The red-head.” He said, eyes fixed on one spot like he couldn’t even move. And then Stiles saw her. Saw her because she was staring at Isaac like her life depended on it, totally ignoring the girls who were giggling and nudging her. She was tiny, a mass of red curly hair, pale skin and covered in freckles. Cute, in a way. And then she smiled. And Isaac actually stopped breathing.  Totally just stopped. And so did Stiles. That was one hell of a smile.

Something though, something tugged at the back of Stiles brain, like a kite on the end of a string. Something about her smile that made him think he’d seen her before.

There were a lot of teeth. Stiles glanced at Isaac who was smiling back. All teeth.

“Uh, dude.” He said, trying to grab Isaac’s arm before… He saw them out of the corner of his eye and his heart rate kicked up a gear. “Uh, Jackson, Scott, Boyd, Erica… get your asses here right now.” He hissed, knowing that no matter where they were in the crowd they would be able to hear him, or at least, the panic in his voice. Because he’d seen the guys. The three huge, giant red-headed jocks in varsity jackets and pissed off expressions. And those smiles were all _teeth_. “This is Stiles and I’m sending up a giant fucking Bat Signal right now!” He said – and Isaac still hadn’t moved. Neither had the girl in green, whose brothers were most defiantly of the wolfy persuasion. Jackson got there first, dragging Lydia behind him, Boyd and Erica shoving their way through the crowd just behind.

“What the hell?” Jackson said, looking like he wanted to kill Stiles. “Why did you…” And then he saw them. Oh, _four_ of them now. “What is going on?” Lydia said, following Isaacs line of sight. “Oh, She’s a cute one! You should go talk to her.”

“No!” Five voices spoke at once – loud enough to get the girl in green to look somewhere other than Isaac, and for Isaac to face Stiles, just as a heavy hand came down on Stiles bruised shoulder. And damn it, but it hurt like hell. His knees almost buckled.

“Who the hell are you?” The giant red-headed werewolf growled in his ear.

“Stiles.” Was all he could manage as the pain in his shoulder made him light headed. “Just Stiles.”

“Stay away from our sister or-”

“Oh my god!” a shrill voice broke in. “You are the most embarrassing things in the whole world!” The little red headed girl, who was about 4 inches shorter that Stiles, was suddenly there. “How dare you!” She hissed, eyes flashing green and fire. “How very dare you!”

“He was staring at you.” The older guy said, although all the threat had left his voice. He was practically whining.

“No he wasn’t!” She snapped. “I’m telling mom right now.” She said, whipping a phone out of her pocket. “I’m telling her what jerks you are. I’m telling her you almost got into a fight with another pack and you hurt a human.” She said as she dialled. “I’m telling her-”

“Reever!” Four voices whined at once. “Come on, we’re just looking out for you.”

“The day I need you to look out for me will be the day Argents cut me in half.” She hissed, ear to the phone.

“Reeve!”

“Mom?” She said, paying them no attention. “I’m going to kill my brothers. All of them. They were going to beat up a guy just for _looking_ at me.” She paused. Even Stiles could hear the woman on the other end of the phone yelling. The guy who’d slammed his hand down on his shoulder was now holding on to him like he needed all the help in the world to stay standing. Stiles was sure he heard the word ‘castration’ before all four whined again. “Sure.” She girl (Reeve, he assumed) said, holding out the phone to the brother holding onto Stiles.

He took it gingerly, as though he’d just been handed a bomb.

“Ah, Hi mom.”

* * *

 

**_Remember: Words are powerful. Try not to rhyme – the camber of tone and rhythm can cause power to infuse._ **

**_As always – Remember, words spoken can hurt if they are power infused or not.  Beware of those spoken in haste._ **

* * *

 

They were sitting in the lunch area in the middle of the event. Lydia had stacks of stuff that she was idly flipping though, While Jackson was pretending to read some leaflet about the army that Boyd had shown him. Scott and Alison were still standing at a stall chatting to a guy about the archery programme at his college. Reever  - who was actually called ‘Genevieve’- was sitting at the other table talking to Isaac. Well… they weren’t talking. They were just kind of staring at each other. And smiling. Her brothers were sitting around Stiles, chatting away as though nothing had happened. Turns out they were actually pretty cool – although football obsessed.

“So mom said we could go on the team, as long as we didn’t you know… kill anyone.” Said Gabe (the smaller of the four brothers).

“Yeah – Isaac plays lacrosse. Same deal.”

“I guess.” Gavin (the one who’d almost broke Stiles shoulder) said. “No hard feelings, right?”

“Nah.”

“She’s our little sister, you know. We just… it’s a bit soon for her to be…” He glanced over at the girl who was still staring into Isaacs eyes like he was the only person worth looking at in the world. “Dating.”

“I’m 17.” She said from across the table, not breaking eye contact with Isaac.

* * *

 

Isaac sat beside Stiles on the way back, Scott and Alison up at the back of the bus holding hands and whispering to each other. Stiles wouldn’t have minded, but Isaac, normally okay with conversation, had his phone out and was texting non-stop. Stiles had a feeling of _Déjà vu_ all over again. Girl shows up… wolf stops hanging out with Stiles.

Then Isaac hit send and looked at him. “Sorry.”

“No worries, dude, text your girlfriend.” He grinned.

“Did you see this?” He said, ignoring the ‘girlfriend’ bit, but blushing a little. “I picked it up when we were going around.”

He handed Stiles a glossy photo brochure. A smiling guy in blue scrubs was holding the most adorable puppy Stiles had ever seen. ‘Veterinarian College’ in bold letters at the top of the page. “I thought it looked pretty cool. You know… what do you think?”

Stiles grinned. “This is awesome, dude!”

“It’s pretty close too – so I wouldn’t need to leave Derek.” He said, pointing at the simple map on the back. “I could travel back and forth at weekends or whatever – and still keep my job at Deatons.”

“Would you want to stay with Derek?”

“Yeah.” Isaac said, not really looking at him. “He’s my Alpha, and he saved my life.” He smiled then. “And we’ve got some pretty neat woods out here, you know. Living in the city would be… hard.”

“I’ve got an image of you now – singing ‘born free’ skipping through the woods.” Stiles grinned, which made Isaac laugh and elbow him in the ribs.

* * *

 


	7. Chapter 7

He and Isaac sat on the bleachers after school and looked through all the leaflets they’d picked up. Stiles had no idea what he wanted to do once he left school – he envied Isaac’s clear plan for the future.

“I was hoping to speak to someone from here.” He said, looking at the glossy folder he’d shown Stiles on the bus back. “It looks really good and they’ve got a great reputation in the industry – Dr Deacon was actually pretty pleased I was thinking about it.”

“That sounds awesome.” Stiles said, looking at his own pile. It looked like Stiles had just walked past every stall there and picked stuff up. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“Well… neither did I – and then I start working at the vets and… it just made sense. Maybe you’ll see something or read something and it’ll be… obvious.” Isaac smiled, and Stiles remembered just how great it was to have someone to talk to. He missed Scott like a hole in the heart, but he’d ignored him for the better part of a month and when he did talk to him it was always obvious he’d rather be somewhere else.

“Maybe.” Stiles said, because what he really wanted to be wasn’t something you could learn. He wanted to be the guy that the pack needed to do the research. He wanted to be the one with the books and the knowledge of all the freaky supernatural stuff that could go down. He wanted to protect them, help them – not just sit by and watch.

“Can I ask you a question?” Isaac said, looking through the piles that Stiles had picked up. His voice sounded… strained.

“You can ask me anything.” Stiles said, and he meant it.

“Are you leaving the pack?”

“What?”

“Are you thinking of leaving the pack?”

“What makes you think I would?”

“All of these are for out of state.” Isaac said, and lifted up the pile. “This is New York, this is Denver, and this here is for Texas.”

“I just picked them up; I wasn’t really thinking of going to them.”

“Oh.” Isaac looked relived. “Good.” He nudged Stiles shoulder. “It would totally suck if _you_ left.”

Stiles didn’t want to think about how good that made him feel.

Isaac was ignoring his phone – even Stiles could hear the vibrating of the mobile on the wooden bench. “Are you going to get that?”

“It’s just a text.” Isaac said, glancing down and picking up his phone. He swiped the screen and laughed – showing the joke he’d been sent. ‘What do u gt if u cross a witch and a werewlf? A mad dog tht chases aeroplanes. Huff puff! R x’

“R?”

“Reever.” Isaac said, going red. “She’s got loads of these stupid jokes she sends.”

“She seems nice.” Stiles said, not really sure how he felt about the whole thing. Scott got a girlfriend and totally changed his priorities overnight.

“Yeah. The thing is… I kinda feel like…” Isaac stared over the pitch as he got his words in order. “I know her, like I’ve known her always.” He looked at Stiles. “I know we’re going to be together _forever_. And it scares me.” He looked down at his phone. “I don’t have any choice.”

“Like a soulmate or something?”

“No – yes – I don’t know. Worse. Better.” Isaac gripped his phone so tightly that Stiles was sure he was going to snap in it half or crush it. “I saw her, and I knew. Like… everything.” He paused. “I knew her mom was the Alpha, knew she had 5 brothers. I know she’s allergic to shellfish and hates being the only girl.” Isaac gave Stiles a worried look. “It’s like the information just arrived in my brain when I saw her. And the same thing happened to her. She knew about my dad, about Derek…”

“Sounds pretty cool to me.” Stiles said, wondering if it had been like that for Scott. Although… he was sure Scott would have mentioned it – and would have known Alison’s dad was an argent.

“Yeah. But… no too, you know?”

Stiles could only shake his head.

“What if… I liked someone else? And now… now I can’t?”

“Can’t?”

“Like… I liked this person a lot, and now… nothing – like that part of me just switched off.” He paused. “She has a boyfriend. And he was her first love and… first _everything_. And now… she’s got to break up with him.”

“But you do like her?”

“Yes.” Isaac said, and there was strength in his voice that wasn’t there before. “I love her. I’m just not sure I _wanted_ to.”

* * *

 

Stiles figured some lacrosse would help clear Isaacs mind, so they picked up their sticks and were doing passes when Stiles heard the car pull into the lot. There really was no mistaking the sound of Derek’s car. The thing had an engine made of rocket parts or something. It sounded like a jet.

He walked over to them, both standing in the middle of the field like idiots watching him, sticks in hand.

“I just got a visit from an Alpha and I had no idea what she was talking about.” He said, looking utterly pissed off. Isaac swallowed so loud Stiles could hear it. “Do you have any idea how that makes me look?”

“I didn’t think-”

“Of course you didn’t think!” Derek roared, and Isaac actually tried to step behind Stiles to get away from the wrath in Derek’s voice.

“Derek!” Stiles snapped, idiot wolf had no fucking clue. Isaac was the only wolf in the pack who actually wanted to stay with Derek, respected him. “Back off. He was going to tell you.”

“Stay out of this! This is pack business.” The Alpha yelled, eyes tinged with red. “You should have told me right away. The daughter of an Alpha!”

“I was going to!” Isaac whined.

“Give the guy a break!” Stiles hissed at the Alpha, who was about to go full wolf in the middle of the lacrosse field. Derek reached for Isaac, and Stiles knew that although the wolf wouldn’t actually hit the beta, but Isaac had been through too much with his dad to take lightly to his Alpha threatening him with violence. So Stiles shoved Derek– put both hands on his chest and pushed with everything he had. Of course Derek didn’t budge – he was already half shifted and pissed off. Focus changing from Isaac to Stiles, he shoved him back, one handed.

* * *

 

Stiles woke up on his bed aware of only one thing – pain. Everything hurt. He let out a groan.

“Don’t move.” Derek’s voice commanded, and although it pissed him right off, Stiles had to do what he was told. He didn’t think he could move.

“What happened?”

“You are an idiot.” There was more than anger in the wolfs voice. Stiles was sure there was fear in there too. “Never, ever get between to wolves again.” He snapped. “Ever.”

“You threw me across the pitch!” Stiles said, eyes snapping open as the memory returned. “You fucking asshole!” He tried to push himself up, but the pain rolled over him like a black wave, he closed his eyes and groaned.

“Do. Not. Move.” Derek repeated, laying a hand on his shoulder. It was comforting, soothing – and really fucking annoying.

“If you even think I’m forgiving you for this, you are so wrong.” He said, as the all over pain started to splinter into specific areas. His back, shoulders – his ass was killing him. “Did I break anything?” he paused. “Cause if you broke me I’m gonna be so pissed.”

“You didn’t break anything.” Derek said, voice softer. “You just blacked out.”

“Yeah, like that’s not fucking bad enough, Derek.”

“I know.” The bed dipped as the Alpha sat on the edge. Stiles kept his eyes shut as the movement caused his back to bloom in pain. “I lost my temper.”

“Try not to do that.” Stiles said, not at all distracted by the feel of Derek’s hand on his shoulder, the wolfs little finger slightly curled around his collarbone.

“You shouldn’t have gotten in the way.” Derek said, and for the first time, Stiles agreed. He wasn’t a supernaturally enhanced; he couldn’t keep acting like it was okay to get thrown about. “Although if it makes you feel any better, the cream is working.”

“Huh?” Stiles said, the feel of Derek’s hand just resting on him was really messing with his mind. It felt like so long since Derek had touched him for something that wasn’t rubbing Arnica on his back.

“Your leg. The bruise on your thigh has gone.” Derek said, thumb gently rubbing Stiles shoulder. “The cream is working.”

“How the…” Stiles started, but a few things registered at once. He was in his bed. He was wearing only his checked boxers. Derek Hale was rubbing his shoulder. Unfortunately, his brain and his groin arrived at this information at the same time, and one of them worked much faster than the other.

Sitting up quickly, ignoring the screaming pain from his back (because self-preservation kicked the ass of every other sense he had) he tried to think of a way to hide the fact that parts of him really, _really_ liked Derek Hale on his bed.

“Careful” Derek said, grabbing him by the shoulders as he swayed dangerously. “You need to lay down.”

“No. No, I’m good.” Stiles said, twisting his body so Derek wouldn’t be able to tell. He looked down at his thigh. The bruise was gone, and pale white skin was in its place. But only on one leg. The one where he’d tested the honey mixture. His brain kicked up a gear. “Derek, my leg… that wasn’t the Arnica stuff.” He said, turning only his head to look at the wolf who was frowning dangerously. “I got this… like… herbal mix stuff. To test.” He didn’t want Derek to know about the books in the case under his bed. Didn’t want him to know in case he thought it was crazy.

“Do you have more?” Derek said, looking around the room.

“Uh, yeah, but it’s not like a cream or anything.” He paused. “It’s got honey and stuff in it. It’s pretty messy.” He really didn’t want Derek covering him in honey. Well… actually, that was a lie. He didn’t want Derek to think that Stiles _wanted_ him to cover him in honey.

“Don’t be an idiot.” Derek snapped. “If it works, what does it matter? Where is it?”

“Derek, it’s like really messy.” Stiles said. “It’ll drip everywhere and I’ll ruin my carpet.”

Derek got off the bed and went into the hallway. Stiles wasn’t quite sure what was going on until the wolf came back carrying a huge white sheet. “Fold this in half and put it on the floor. I couldn’t find a waterproof. I had one at the den.”

“We are not doing this.” Stiles managed to squeak out. This was mortifying in the extreme. Derek sniffed the air, before walking into the bathroom. He came back holding the plastic tub that Stiles had been meaning to clean. “This it?”

“Derek, seriously.” Stiles said, praying to god that he wasn’t going to actually have to go through with this. “I really think this is a bad idea.”

“Shut up. The longer you put this off, the long it’ll take for you to get better.”

Stiles stood up and managed to keep his back to Derek while he folded the sheet in half and put it on the floor. Derek pulled of his jacket and grey jumper so he was standing in his white vest and jeans. Stiles, still in his boxers, felt totally exposed and uncomfortable. “Relax.” Derek said from behind him. “It’s just like the damn Arnica.”

Only, it wasn’t, and when the cold mixture hit his back, he actually yelped.

“Dude! That stuff is made of ice!” He complained as Derek rubbed it in, not caring about the gooseflesh that covered Stiles body. It wasn’t as bad as Stiles thought it might be – the honey had been sitting for 24 hours, it was slightly firmer than before, he could feel small sugar crystals in the mixture that weren’t there the first time.

“What is in this?” Derek asked, and Stiles could hear him sniff the mixture.

“Like, leaves or something.” Stiles said. “Just another herbal thing.”

The longer the honey mixture was on his back, the warmer it felt. Derek had put the tub on the floor and was using both hands to rub the mixture into Stiles mid back, his hands felt amazingly warm – and when he pressed on either side of his spine, Stiles knees actually went weak.

“Sorry.” He said, blushing furiously.

“You should see a sports doctor,” Derek said, still applying pressure to his back. It felt amazing. Stiles rolled his head back unthinking. “Your back is all knots.” Stiles was actually just concentrating on staying upright so the only sound he managed was half way between a sigh and a groan. It felt amazing – like all the stress from the past couple of weeks was just oozing out of his muscles. The honey mixture was starting to melt too – every now and then drops would hit the sheet under his feet. Derek ran his hands up the full length of Stiles back, thumbs pressing into each side of his spine, and Stiles moaned – actually let out a full on, ‘Oh Good Lord, don’t stop’ moan that he couldn’t have kept in if he’d been offered a big bag of money. Derek’s hands were on his shoulder blades, thumbs supporting his neck as he continued his massage.

“I’m going to fall over.” Stiles managed, legs weak. His voice was embarrassingly breathy and shallow, but he couldn’t find the energy to care when everything just felt so _good_.

“Try not to do that.” Derek said, and Stiles snapped his eyes open. Because that wasn’t a grumpy assed sour-wolf tone of voice. That was a ‘Holding on to my self-control by a thread’ tone of voice and it was _hot_. Derek moved one hand back down the length of his spine, keeping one hand at the base of Stiles neck. Only when his hand hit mid back, he pushed around, fingers splaying over Stiles ribs. When Derek’s hands suddenly left him, Stiles did nearly fall over. The sudden abandonment of touch made him gasp unhappily, half turning to face Derek.

The wolf pushed him back to face the wall and suddenly his hands were back on him, cold mixture mixing with the heated stuff on his body making Stiles gasp and his breath to hitch. Although Derek kept his hands on his back, every now and then he would push the mixture forward, around Stiles ribcage, or just a bit lower than Stiles was expecting, the wolfs fingers pushing at the elastic of his boxers. And each time he did it, Stiles bit his lip to stop from groaning. He was hard, rock hard – throbbing, and he knew that Derek knew. Damn wolf knew he was slowly killing Stiles with his bloody magic hands that just seemed to be everywhere.

When Derek slid his hands forward, Stiles wasn’t expecting it. Was too busy trying not to fall over or do something really stupid like pass out. And then it registered that the wolfs arms were wrapped around his body and all it would take was for Stiles just to take a step back and he’d be pressed right up against him…

Derek moved before Stiles had the opportunity, took a half step forward as he pushed his hands further around Stiles body. And then down.

Stiles actually sagged against Derek as the Alpha’s hands dipped under his boxers. He didn’t give a crap that he was probably acting like a sex starved teenager when he reached back and grabbed at the waist of Derek’s Jeans. He needed something that would keep him upright because…

“Oh God.” He moaned, and he pushed his back against Derek because it was the only thing he could do when the Alpha wrapped his hand around his cock. His head rolled back, resting on Derek’s shoulder as the wolf shifted his feet so he could take the weight of Stiles who was unable to support himself. With the first long stroke of the wolfs hand down the length of Stiles cock, he shuddered uncontrollably, breathing shattered. Derek groaned, but Stiles was far too gone to think of that – his mind was focused entirely on his own body as he tried desperately to hold on to the feeling of Derek’s hand gently pumping his cock.

Derek’s head was leaning on Stiles shoulder, his other arm wrapped around his waist helping to keep Stiles upright. And Stiles was gone, so far gone in his own pleasure and the feel of Derek that he didn’t even hear the noises he was making. The noises that were frantic and desperate and _begging_. It didn’t take long before Stiles threw his head back and bucked his hips into Dereks fist. The sticky feel of honey and cum covered Dereks hand as he gently coaxed every last drop from him until Stiles whimpered from the sensation.

Stiles couldn’t move. There was no way he would be able to stand on his own, which Derek found out when he tried to pull away and Stiles nearly hit the floor. “Sorry.” He mumbled, unable to focus on anything, his world was wavering between solid and liquid.

“It’s okay.” Derek managed, hooking his arm under Stiles and managing to keep him on his feet.

“I’m really sorry.” He managed, a little clearer. “I just…wasn’t expecting that.”

Derek looked away, and Stiles felt like a total idiot before the wolf shrugged.

“I didn’t mean to push you.”

“Was this an apology?” Stiles asked, feeling suddenly sick. His heart started thudding in his chest again, bile rising up in his throat as he pushed himself back onto his shaking legs.

“It won’t happen again.” Derek said, pulling away and walking out of the room.

Stiles made it to the bathroom before he threw up the contents of his stomach.

* * *

 

He stood under the water long after it changed from hot to cold, desperate to get rid of every trace of… whatever had just happened. Shivering and trying not to cry, he leaned against the wall of the shower as the water hit like ice. He’d thrown up everything – just leaned over the toilet and heaved for a good 15 minutes before trusting that there was nothing left in his system to throw up, before the feeling of honey and the smell of his own cum made him turn to the shower.

Fuck Derek Hale. Fuck him and his hot and cold moodswings. Asshole.

Stiles stepped out from the shower, teeth chattering with the icy droplets rolling down his skin. The mirror was no longer steamed, the air around him bitter cold. His pale skin was covered in gooseflesh, he glared at his reflection and turned away before he spun back around.

“Derek!” He called, panic in his voice. “Der-” The wolf was ripping open the bathroom door before he could even finish calling his name. The expression on his face was terrified, as though he expected to see Stiles being attacked, or dying. Then he noticed.

Stiles was still dripping wet, still shivering and totally naked.

“What the fuck was in that honey?” Derek said, reaching out at turning Stiles left and right like a ragdoll. “What the hell have you gotten into?”

There wasn’t a single bruise on his body….

But the red pattern that had been burning like fire was already fading…

* * *

 


	8. Chapter 8

Derek had pulled Stiles out of the bathroom by his shoulders and was going through his draws before Stiles could even get a word out.

“What are you doing?” He managed, teeth still chattering from the freezing shower. He was standing to one side of the honey spotted sheet on the floor, dripping wet and still naked.

“You need clothes, now!” Derek snapped, throwing boxers and jeans over his shoulder. “We’re going to the hospital. You need to see a doctor!” The pitch of his voice was too high, as though the wolf was freaking out, but Stiles was totally calm.

“I don’t need to go to hospital, Derek.” Stiles said, throwing the jeans back at his head. “I need to dry off, and get warm and eat something.”

“Stiles!” Derek snapped, turning to face him. “You just had some kind of allergic reaction and you are going to do what you are told!”

“I think you are forgetting that I’m not one of your pack!” Stiles said, staring down the older wolf. “If I remember earlier, you told me to stay out of pack business. So why don’t you take your own advice and stay out of mine?”

“You are going to the hospital!” Derek roared, holding out the jeans that Stiles had thrown back at him.

“No, I’m not.” Stiles said, wondering why his brain thought now, standing shivering and naked, was a good time to get into an argument with Derek. His tone of voice was flat and bored, and Derek actually looked like he’d been slapped.

“What?”

“You heard me, Derek.” Stiles said, walking back to the bathroom for his towel.

He took his time rubbing himself dry. Normally he just pulled on his clothes when his skin was still wet, but he was trying to avoid going back into his room, because Derek was there.

When he walked back through, Derek was still standing by the dresser, but he’d obviously been busy. Stiles bedroom had never been so clean.

“What the hell?” Stiles gasped, towel wrapped low around his hips.

“What took you so long?” Derek snapped. He looked pissed. Then again... he always looked pissed.

“Did you clean my room?”

“You were taking too long.”

Stiles wasn’t sure why he laughed. The idea of Derek cleaning his bedroom was beyond funny. The Alpha looked like he was about to kill him, however.

“Sorry,” Stiles snorted. Even the bed was made. How long had he spent in the bathroom? The only thing that was out of place was his comic book collection down the side of his bed, and Derek's jacket and jumper that were lying on the back of his desk chair.

“Get dressed.” Derek snapped. Throwing Stiles the jeans.

“These wont fit me, Dude. They’re from years ago.” Stiles said, taking the jeans out of Derek's outstretched hands. “Did you just grab the first black thing you saw?”

“Just get dressed.” Derek said, and Stiles could hear the pleading tone in his voice.

“Give me some privacy and then I’ll think about it.”

“I’m not letting you out of my sight.” Derek snapped, throwing Stiles his phone. “Isaac’s been calling you non-stop.”

Grabbing his phone and dialling as he nudged Derek out of the way, Stiles tucked the phone under his ear and opened his dresser drawers. He didn’t want to wear clothes Derek had picked out for him.

“Dude!” Isaacs voice was loud and relieved. In the background he could hear voices, rowdy laughter and yelling. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Stiles said, pulling on a pair of checked boxers on under his towel. For some reason he didn’t want Derek to see him get dressed – even though he’d been standing there naked under an hour ago. “Where are you?”

“After Derek freaked over pushing you, I called Reever, and her mom invited me over for dinner.” He said, “I’m so glad you’re okay – Derek was freaking out when you wouldn’t wake up. He really didn’t shove you that hard.”

“I’m fine. What it like there?”

“Loud.” Isaac said, it was hard to make out what he was saying. “Nice. Everyone is kind of treating this like a big deal. It’s apparently really rare, you know. Like...” There was a crash and a cheer, and then suddenly it got much quieter. “Sorry, I’m outside now.”

“Sounds like a party.”

“Yeah. It’s like a really big deal. People keep showing up. It’s called a Bonding and it only happens like... once a generation or something.”

“Isaac, that’s a pretty awesome!” He said, pulling on his jeans. “How’s Reever taking it?”

“Okay, I guess. She’s pretty upset about her boyfriend, he took it pretty hard – didn’t really understand why she was okay this morning and now she’s breaking up with him.”

“Yeah, that would suck.”

“They were... really tight.” Isaac said, “Like Scott and Alison tight, and now he’s freaking out.”

“Does he know about the whole, wolf thing?”

“No.” Isaac said. In the background Stiles could hear a soft female voice. “She wants to talk to you.”

“Oh,” Stiles said, and before he could say anything else – Reever was on the line.

“Hi Stiles.”

“Um, Hi.” He said, standing looking at Derek. The wolf shrugged.

“Are you okay? Isaac was worried.”

“I’m fine.”

“Oh, okay. Um... I just wanted to say hi. I feel like I know you – because of Isaac. I just wanted to... I dunno... like... we should be friends.” She paused. “I’m transferring schools. After breaking up with Liam... things won’t be great for me here.”

In the background he could hear Isaac saying ‘It’ll be okay Reeve.’

“You’re Isaacs girl.” Stiles said, “We’re going to be _family_. We’re already friends.”

“Thanks, Stiles.” Reever said. “Here’s Isaac.”

“Thanks, dude.”

“No problem. Congrats and all.”

“Yeah. Thanks. I’d better go. They’ll start looking for us.”

“See you tomorrow.”

“Yeah.”

The line went dead and Stiles let the phone drop from between his ear and shoulder onto the bed. Derek was still looking at him, but less like he wanted to rip his head off and more disappointed.

“What?” Stiles said, grabbing the first t-shirt he could and pulling it over his head.

“He didn’t tell me anything about this.”

“Yeah, well.” Stiles said, climbing on the bed and crossing his legs under him. “That’s cause you went all Alpha-psycho on him rather than treat him like a human being.”

“An Alpha showed up here and wanted to talk to me about her daughter joining my pack!” Derek snapped. “I didn’t know anything about it.”

“He was freaking out.” Stiles said, leaning back, glad that (for now at least) Derek wasn’t trying to drag him to hospital.

“You were playing games.” Derek snapped.

“I was trying to get him to relax. Jesus – he’s just found out that he’s gonna be like... married for life or something, and he’s only 17.” Stiles paused. “You wanna explain that, by the way?”

“I’ve never heard of anything like that.” Derek said, running his hands through his hair. “Peter might know – but he’s not here.” He leaned his hip against the dresser. “Don’t think you’ve distracted me. We’re going to the hospital.”

“What if I told you...” Stiles said, watching the wolf carefully. “That I kinda made that stuff myself.” Seeing Derek's blank expression, Stiles dove off his bed and pulled out the case that he’d been sent. “I got this stuff, right, from my mom’s family.” He flipped open the lid, showing all the books to Derek. “This one here – listen: Comfrey Leaves – used to promote healing. Mix with honey and apply topically to bruises.” He paused. “And here it says in different writing:  For use if familiar retards Arnica.’ It’s all like this.” He said, flipping through the pages and showing them to Derek. “Like... family herbal remedies or something.”

Derek picked up one of the books and flipped through the pages. “Stiles, I think you need to talk to a doctor.”

“I told you-”

“I mean like Doctor Deacon.” Derek said, voice slow. “I don’t think these are family recipes. I think... I think we really need to talk to the vet.”

* * *

 

Doctor Deacon had been reading through the case of books that Derek had thrown in the boot of his car when he’d dragged Stiles out by the shoulder. So far he had yet to say one word, just kept reading. Occasionally, he would type something into the open laptop on the table, but didn’t say a word.

Eventually, he closed the last page on the last book with a sigh. “Thank you.” He said, in his calm voice. “Thank you for bringing these to me.” He pushed the book towards Stiles. “You should keep these safe. Hidden.” He looked at the laptop – it seemed to be some kind of forum. “The teas and lotions won’t be of any use to others – they were made specifically for your bloodline. Although you may make a great deal if you were to start selling your own herbal teas online.” He smiled. “But some of these, some of these are very dangerous.” He had separated the books into three piles. “Someone spent a lot of time on these. Green useful only to you, the blue covers are full of information – guides. The red... the red are very dangerous. Spells, beast lore... how to siphon power – these are beyond your abilities, and mine.”

“He had red... fire... or something.” Derek said. “All over his body. Like markings or an infection.”

“Yes.” The vet said, clicking on the laptop. “Nothing to worry about.” He must have seen Derek's expression, because he smiled softly. “Red is good – as long as the markings are red, Stiles is perfectly healthy. If they are black, then bring him to me.” The vet wrote a few things down on his pad. “This is the site and password for the Darkhunters. Sign up and ask on this forum.” He underlined the name. “And ask to talk to Sunshine Runningwolf. Her father is a Shaman, and he will be able to guide you much more than I can.” He tore off the paper and handed it to Stiles. “I’d tell you not to try anything until you talk to him, but I think that you would ignore that.” He smiled again. “So I’ll tell you to be careful instead.”

“Thanks, Doc.”

“Oh, and search your house.” He added, as they were leaving. “Your familiar is affecting your results. As soon as you find out what it is, the better prepared you will be later.”

* * *

 

He sat in the car and tried not to look smug. Derek was frowning more than usual, but Stiles was thrilled. He was something special – there was something in his blood that made him special, and no one could take that from him. For the kid who’d been pushed to the back when all his friends were out howling at the full moon, this was a big deal. He was magic.

“Can you make me something to eat when we get back?” He asked, looking at Derek. “I kinda threw everything up earlier.” Oh yeah, he was magic. Probably like... Harry Potter or Gandalf or something. So Derek Hale had better watch out, because Super Stiles wasn’t going to let him away with a damn thing. Starting now. “You know, after your jerked me off.”

Derek crashed the car.

Okay, so he didn’t actually crash the car, but he did nearly run them off the road. “Woah! Dude!” Stiles yelled, grabbing the door handle and putting his feet on the dash. “Careful! Are you trying to kill us?”

“Are YOU?” Derek yelled back, slamming the breaks down so they wouldn’t end up in a ditch in the middle of nowhere. “Don’t do that!”

“Do what?”

“Talk about it!” Derek snapped, starting up the car again and driving (much slower) down the dark road.

“Talk about the fact that one second you’re all over me and the next you won’t even _look_ at me?” Stiles said, temper getting the better of him again.

“Can you please stop talking about it?” Derek snapped, and set his jaw. Normally, Stiles would take that hint, but that was back when he was just Stiles, that skinny kid in the red hoodie. Now he was Stiles with the bad ass magic blood and he was going to get his way. He wondered just how far he could push it...

“Stop the car.”

“What?”

“I said stop the car. I’m getting out.”

Turns out, he could push Derek Hale pretty fucking far, because the wolf only drove about 15 feet before slamming on the breaks and getting out as well.

“Get back in the car.”

“Fuck you.”

“Stiles, get back in the car or I’ll drag you in by the throat.” And Stiles knew he would do it, knew by the red tinge in his eyes and the way his hands were clenching.

“You can’t treat me like this.” Stiles hissed.

Derek snapped, lunging forward and wrapping his hands around Stiles throat. Fear, primal and basic took over, Stiles kicked back, fought with everything he had – Derek roared at the night sky, fangs lengthening. The Alpha pulled him towards the car, his feet tripping and stumbling. Stiles fell, the only thing keeping him up was the grip Derek had on his throat, and Stiles was choking. Grabbing at the wolves arm, he tried to claw – push – _anything_ – to try and get some air past the grip around his neck. When his back hit the passenger side, Derek stopped squeezing – but didn’t let go. Stiles gasped for air, desperate to stop from passing out. His throat was killing him, shock at what Derek had done.

Then Derek was pushing him against the car harder – using his whole body to crowd Stiles. He tried to push him away, but the older wolf was too damn strong, and Stiles was still trying to breathe. Derek pushed harder, growling dangerously, face inches from Stiles. His hand still firmly around Stiles neck, he used the other to hold him firmly against the car door.

“Derek,” Stiles managed. “You are freaking me out.”

Derek laughed, although it wasn’t a nice sound. Wasn’t like the other laughs that he sometimes did when he forgot that he was a grumpy bastard and was enjoying himself. This was a whole new _‘I really wish I hadn’t heard that’_ type of laugh. Derek used his hand to tip Stiles head up, and lowered his pointed teeth to his neck. It took Stiles a few seconds to register a few things. Derek was completely wolfed out. Derek was just about to sink his teeth into Stiles – and Derek was totally getting off on it.

Stiles knew right then, how to stop Derek from ripping his throat out. The wolf had a nasty habit of forgetting that Stiles had two hands, and only one of them was wrapped around his wrist. Derek's teeth scraped along the corded tendon of Stiles neck at the same time Stiles slid his hand down the length of Derek's button fly. Derek's head snapped up as he rocked into Stiles palm - pushing more of his cock against Stiles hand.

The Alpha hit the ground like a rock, clutching at his groin like someone had just squeezed his balls as hard as they could. Stiles kicked him in the ribs.

“Do not EVER do that to me again you fucking asshole!” Stiles rasped, unable to even scream at the wolf curled up on the road. Derek just whimpered.

Stiles got in the car and drove off, leaving Derek lying on the middle of the road.

* * *

 

He was curled up in bed, covers over his head and trying not to think about how the hell he was going to explain away the handprint around his throat the next day at school, when he heard his bedroom door open and close.

“Fuck off.” He said, although it hurt to talk. His throat was burning like fire with every breath he took. “You nearly killed me.”

“I didn’t mean it.” Derek said, as though that made it okay.

“Leave me alone.”

“I made you tea.”

Stiles kicked off his covered and glared at the wolf, standing in the middle of his bedroom floor, lit only by the street lam outside. “Tea?” He rasped. “Are you having a fucking laugh? You tried to KILL ME.”

“It’s got honey and some of those comfrey leaves in it.” Derek said, holding out the mug. “Drink it.”

“Die slowly.”

“Stiles, if you drink it, I’ll leave.”

“You tried to kill me.”

“I wasn’t going to hurt you.”

“You _did_ hurt me.” Stiles said, “You nearly ripped my throat out!”

“No.” Derek said. “I wasn’t... I didn’t...”

“Look at me!” Stiles said, turning on the lamp by his bed and pointing to his neck. He’d taken a look once he’d gotten home and knew exactly how bad it was. “You did this!”

Derek looked like he wanted to die. He looked everywhere but at Stiles, face a mask of misery. “I’m sorry.” He said, and Stiles almost forgave him right there. The wolf was looking at the floor, holding the mug that said ‘worlds best dad’ in his hands and looking like... like a kid. Like a lost, lonely kid.

“Sorry isn’t good enough.” Stiles said. “You ever, ever do that to me again and I’ll-”

“I’m going to go and tell the Argent what I did.” Derek said, talking to the floor.

“What?” Stiles asked, unsure if he was hearing things right.

“I’m going to tell the Argents I hurt you.”

“They’ll kill you,” Stiles said, climbing out of bed to stand in front of the wolf. “They won’t just threaten you like I’m going to do. They’ll actually kill you.”

“I didn’t mean to _hurt_ you.” Derek said, and that’s when Stiles noticed.

“Are you crying?”

“No.” Derek said, holding out the mug. “Please drink this.” Stiles took the mug out of the wolfs hands and stared at the tears running down the Alphas face. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He repeated.

“I believe you.” Stiles rasped. And he did. Derek might throw him against stuff, and push him around, but he never, ever seemed to hurt him. Badly, at least. Scott had actually been the one that broke his leg when he was pissed off, although he’d go to the grave before he’d tell anyone that. He took a sip of the tea and made a face. “This is disgusting.”

“I know. I had a taste.”

“It won’t work for you.” He said, taking another sip.

“I just wanted to make sure it was okay to drink.”

Stiles handed the mug back to Derek and climbed back into bed before holding his hand out for the drink again. Derek handed him the mug and sat down on the floor, squeezing his wide shoulders between the bedside table and the bed. “I’m still mad at you.” Stiles said, taking another drink. The taste wasn’t that bad once you got past the bitterness. “But as long as you never, ever – **_ever_** – hurt me again, I think I’ll let this one slide.” He took another drink. “So no talking to Argents.”

“I promise I’ll never hurt you again.” Derek mumbled.

“You remind me of Isaac when you look like that.”

“I just got ass kicked by a human who left me in the middle of the road and stole my car.” Derek said. “I don’t feel particularly Alpha right now.”

* * *

 

Stiles woke up before Derek, who was sound asleep still wedged between the bed and the table. He didn’t look comfortable at all. Serves him right, thought Stiles, rolling out of the other side of the bed and padding barefoot to the bathroom. He checked his reflection before he turned on the shower. Any marks that had been on his neck the night before were completely gone, not a single trace to show that the sleeping man in his bedroom had nearly killed him. Handy.

He showered quickly, knowing that the hot water in the house was in demand with the three of them living there now. He thought about the night before as he took his time drying himself. Deacon had talked about finding his familiar... he figured he’d need to do that as soon as possible. The paper the vet had given him was sitting by the laptop. He’d just stripped and climbed into bed last night – too sore and mad to think about logging on to a website. Now though – feeling better than he had in MONTHS – seemed like a great time to get started. He had at least an hour before he needed to get to school.

Walking back through his room, he noticed Derek had already gone, and the wolf had made the bed. That made Stiles smile. On the bed he’d even put clothes out – and Stiles grinned at the selection. The darkest pair of jeans Stiles owned that would fit him, the red Flash t-shirt that Derek still hadn’t let him pay for, a red checked shirt and his favourite hoodie. Stiles grabbed the boxers and pulled them on trying not to think that Derek had actually gone through his underwear drawers to find a red plaid pair to match his shirt.

He was just pulling on the t-shirt when Derek leaned against the door, swinging it open. He had a plate of bacon and eggs in one hand and a mug in the other.

“Thanks.” Stiles said, putting on the shirt. It was a strange to think that Derek Hale was bringing breakfast up to his room. “What’s in the mug?”

“I made some more tea.” Derek shrugged. “Those herbs you bought the other day – I used some of those.” He handed Stiles the mug. “I just followed the instructions in the book.”

Stiles sat down at his desk and booted up his laptop. Derek left the plate by the side of the desk and closed the door behind him. For a moment Stiles just didn’t think – then he realised that Derek Hale had totally just been his Alfred. His own personal fucking butler. He laughed for at least half an hour, snorting as he ate and typed.

* * *

 

Stiles had only just slammed the door to his Jeep when Isaac bounded over. He totally ignored the approving looks that a group of girls threw him – come to think of it... Isaac never really preened over girls.

“Reever is here.” He said as he reached the car. “She’s talking to the new Principle now, with her mom.” His voice was excited, like a puppy that’d just been told he was going walkies.

“Awesome, dude.” Stiles managed, although he kind of dreaded once again being left alone.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Stiles smiled. “Why?”

“You just seem... calmer, like normally your heart is being faster than everyone else and it’s really easy to pick you out.” Isaac mumbled. “I wouldn’t have been able to tell it was you if I hadn’t seen the Jeep pull in.” He paused. “Love the shirt, by the way.”

“Thanks!” Stiles grinned, seeing Scott and Alison standing by the main doors. They would have to walk past the couple to get into school – and Stiles really didn’t want to have to deal with Scott’s attitude. “Derek got it for me.”

Scott heard, which Stiles had known he would. The slapped look on his face was worth it before Stiles felt a little bad. They used to be closer than two guys could be without... you know... and now it was like they were strangers.

“Sweet.” Isaac grinned, not aware of Stiles inner struggle. “Sometimes he’s a bit of a jerk... but he’s trying, you know? Like – he called me this morning and we’re going out for dinner tonight, after the game.”

“Awesome. Where are you going?”

“Not sure.” Isaac said, as the climbed the steps to the school building. “I figured he’d ask you.” They walked past Scott and Alison, Alison smiled and said ‘Hey’ with a smile and Stiles grinned back. It wasn’t her fault that her boyfriend was a massive idiot.

“He didn’t mention it to me.” Stiles shrugged. “I think it’ll just be the three of you – you know kind of a getting to know you thing.”

Isaac tipped his head to one side, as though he was sniffing the air. “You smell totally freaky.” He said, giving Stiles an odd look. “Different. Better. Normally you smell like a hospital.”

“Way to make a guy feel good about himself, Isaac!” Stiles laughed, elbowing him in the ribs. “Just what I wanted to know – I stink like bedpans and bleach.”

Isaac blushed and looked away before laughing. “I just mean... you smell less like medication, you know, less blue.”

“Some of us are not quite as olfactory blessed, dude. Blue?”

“Yeah, less blue – more green. It’s really nice. Like... pines and water.”

“I changed my meds.” Was all Stiles said, remembering that he’d not taken any of his Adderall. He hoped he wasn’t about to go into full blown withdrawl, like he’d done last time he decided to quit – not liking the side-effects.

“You smell better. Look better.” Isaac said, grinning. “Whatever you’re taking now just seems better.”

* * *

 

“So it turns out Isaac have no classes together.” Reever was saying, sitting over from Stiles at Lunch. “I’m kinda pleased – god! Don’t tell him that!”

“I won’t.”

“Its not that I don’t want to... be here.” She hurried on. “It’s just I think I should have a chance to make other friends on my own... you know? And he’s super distracting.” Reever had found him just as he was walking to lunch and had latched on to his arm like they’d known each other forever. He’d kind of liked it. She was wearing towering heels, but was still an inch or two shorter than him – he felt like a real jock with her on his arm. Even if she was Isaacs girl.

“He’s not distracting.” Stiles laughed. “He never says a thing during class.”

“Yeah, well you don’t have a mac-truck of hormones doing the can-can inside of you when he walks into the room.” She frowned. “It’s beyond annoying.” She paused, leaning forward. “If that girl doesn’t stop simpering at him I’m going to reach down her throat and rip her fucking heart out.”

Stiles turned to see Isaac standing in the line, one of the girls he’d noticed this morning chatting away. He was smiling and nodding, but Stiles knew he wasn’t interested. “Taking it a bit far, aren’t you?”

Reever grinned, and Stiles remembered that he was sitting across from a werewolf who may actually have ripped a few hearts out in her time. He swallowed.

“Hi!” Lydia’s voice cut through his thoughts of Reever ripping hearts out. He turned to see her standing there, in all her beauty and glory, tray in hand. “I’m Lydia Martin. Welcome to Beacon Hills.” She put her tray down beside Reever, who smiled up at her.

“Hi.”

“Stiles, move over for Jackson.”

* * *

 

“Pass to Jackson!” Stiles roared at Scott, who was trying to single handily win the game. He’d been spending the last 20 minutes yelling at the Beta to realise that there was more than one other person on the pitch. Jackson was starting to get seriously pissed off, and Isaac was half shifted. They were getting their asses kicked, and Scott was trying to prove a point. Stiles didn’t think it was helping Isaac that Reever was in the stands watching everything. He wanted to impress her – Stiles knew that. “Pass to Jackson!” He yelled again. Scott paid him no attention as he was knocked back – losing the ball – and the point.

“Fuck!” Isaac groaned. His voice was already rougher, Stiles could tell he was shifting even though he couldn’t see his friends face. This needed to stop.

“Right!” He snapped. “Scott McCall, if you don’t stop acting like a total dick I’m going to make sure you spend the rest of the game in traction!”

Although he knew that his voice wouldn’t be heard by anyone not blessed with Wolf hearing, he glanced over his shoulder and saw his dad cheering in the stands. He grimaced, giving him the thumbs up. He looked so proud.

The whistle went again, and Scott dove for the ball. “NO!” Stiles yelled, and watched as Scott actually stumbled from the command in his voice. Stiles managed to get the ball and threw it directly to Jackson. First point of the night. Cheering and yelling with his team-mates, he saw his dad had moved on the stands, to make room for someone Stiles had never expected to see at one of these games. Derek Hale. He was smiling and shaking Reevers hand. Derek Hale was at his game – looking like a genuine normal person for a change. He’d even shaved.

“Fuck.” Jackson said, at the same time as both Boyd and Isaac. “We’ve got to win this.”

Stiles tried to ignore the feeling that he always got when Derek was near – the prickling of his skin near the back of his neck.

“Right.” Stiles said. “Boyd, if Scott tries to pull anything funny, brake his leg or something. Jackson – the ball is yours. Isaac and I will back your play.”

Scott wasn’t happy about Boyd constantly blocking any attempt to get to the ball, but there was very little he could do about it other than shifting in the middle of the field. They’d scored a few times, but were still well behind at half time.

Second half started, and Stiles found himself with the ball. For a moment he wasn’t sure what he should do – but there was no clean throw to anyone. Making up his mind, he started running. Years of running away from things meant that he was pretty fast. He didn’t see the other guy before it was too late – he slammed into Stiles like a truck. He heard Isaac call out – saw Jackson running toward him as his whole world flashed red and gold.

He pushed back.

The clash of pads rang in his ears as his feet found purchase in the grass – heaving his whole body weight into the other player. The force made him gasp, he could see the widening eyes of the guy who’d misjudged just how much Stiles was not about to be pushed around anymore.

Then the referee was there, separating them, Jackson pulling Stiles back with both hands. Stiles had pushed back so much that they had gone almost half way down the pitch. The home crowd was going wild. “Dude.” Jackson was saying grinning like an idiot, Banging on Stiles helmet with glee. “Bring it.”

The other team soon learned that although Stiles was a hell of a lot smaller than the three players who were flanking him, he pushed harder and faster. Between Jackson, Boyd and Isaac, once the ball was in their control there was no stopping them. The other team had no chance.

* * *

 

Derek had taken Isaac, Reever, Erica and Boyd away after the game, looking for the entire world like the most fucked up group in the world. It turned out that Derek was rebuilding his life in Beacon Hills, and he wanted to take Isaac under his wing. Both of them had lost people close to them. Isaac had been taken out of class to sit in the new Principles office to talk to Derek, the Sheriff and Erica’s parents.

“Right now it doesn’t mean much, but if social work agrees – he’ll be my legal guardian.”

“Is that what you want?”

“Yeah. It’s really hard to explain – but… he’s like my brother and my dad and my boss – all in one person. He feels like my family, so might as well make it legal.” Isaac said, grinning as he pulled off his pads. “We’re going to drive into the city for Dinner. There is this steak place, and they serve it so blue you can practically here it moo on the plate.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“It’s amazing.”

So Stiles and his dad waved them off – his dad talking all the way home about how proud he was of Derek for really stepping up and making a difference in the town. It was hard to think that a few months ago his dad through he was a murderer – all that was forgotten.

“And you!” He said, as the climbed out of the car. “You were amazing tonight!” His dad laughed a great sound that warmed Stiles to his very soul. “The way you just took control, it was such a great feeling. You could see the reaction in the crowd.” He punched the air. “That’s my boy!”

* * *

 

Derek hadn’t left anything to eat – which made Stiles pout a little – he was getting used to getting a real meal at night – and he was starving after his game. They ordered Pizza, although Stiles managed to get his dad to order two veggie ones, and sat watching a fishing programme. Although he’d rather have died than watch something like that any other time, it was so great to sit there with his dad who would occasionally comment on the rods or lures. When his mom was alive, Stiles remembered that his dad used to go fishing some weekends with his buddies, but since her death he hadn’t done anything like that. Work took over everything.

His dad slowly drifted off to sleep while Stiles quietly put the cardboard boxes in the trash and washed up the glasses. He was elbow deep in soapy bubbles when the back door opened and Derek walked in.

“Hey.” Stiles said, going back to the sink. Strange to think that once the idea of Derek walking into his house would have filled him with dread.

“Pizza?” Derek said, sniffing the air.

“Yeah. How was dinner?”

“Good.” The wolf pulled the dish towel from Stiles shoulder and started drying. “Think we worked out the living arrangements.” He said. “Once the main house is built, I’ll apply for building permission for smaller cabins on the edge of the land – Isaac and Reever can den there.”

“Cool.”

“Depending on how big the pack gets – there should be enough land to cover everyone.”

“Do you expect them all to live there?”

“Erica will, Boyd might.” He shrugged. “I had thought Jackson might turn his back on the idea, but he seemed… pack… tonight, on the pitch.”

“Yeah, He likes to win.” Stiles paused. “What about Scott?”

“If he ever gets over whatever is bothering him. The problem is he’s Peters mark. I might be his Alpha, but Peter has more sway over him right now – and he’s not here.”

“I don’t think he’d like Peter any more than you.” Stiles said, drying his hands on his jeans.  

“Have you had a reply from that internet thing yet?” Derek said, putting the dry glasses away.

“I was just about to go and take a look.”

* * *

 

Stiles logged on and changed his status to ‘Online/Available’ – His username had been picked for him – he was glad they’d stuck with Stiles, because some of the names were _bad_. A pop-up message appeared on the bottom left side of the page. Username ‘Talon’.

**Hey Kid**

_Hey! Are you Sunshines dad?_

**Nah, his views on computers are that they cloud one’s mind with… whatever. He doesn’t even own a mobile.**

_Wha?!_

**I know, right? I’m the son-in-law. He told me ask if you have a guide.**

_Erm, like… a familiar?_ Stiles typed, not sure just how much he should be saying. Would this guy know about werewolves and spells?

**Yeah, something like that.**

_We’ve been looking, but nothing so far._

**We?** Popped up instantly.

_Derek, he’s like… his bark is worse than his bite, if you know what I mean._

**Like a were-hunter? You running with wolves, kid?**

_You know about that?_

**Dude – please. My local bar is run by bears.**

_Sweeeeet!_

**You know it could be him, right? It’s uncommon –really uncommon, but if he’s got the heart of an animal – he could be your guide.**

Stiles fingers were hovered over the keyboard, his brain trying to take that little piece of information in. Could Derek be his guide? It seemed… unlikely.

_I doubt it. Half of the time he can’t stand me._

**And the other half? ;)**

_Yeah… it’s… complicated._ Stiles typed, not really wanting to tell this guy what was going on with him and Derek. He wasn’t even sure he wanted anyone in the pack to know – never mind a stranger online.

**Cool – I am capable of taking a hint once every thousand years. ;) So… these are the things you need to know…**

* * *

 

Turns out that there was a whole different kind of world out there. Stiles lay in bed and stared at the ceiling, mind spinning with all the things Talon had told him. Magic was real, really real – people could change into more than just wolves, and there was a university in New Orleans where the History professor actually _lived_ it. There were dangers too though – dangers enough to make him understand why Deacon had told him to stay away from the red books.

He was going to take Talons advice: Figure out if Derek was his familiar. All he needed was a few herbs and some of Derek’s blood. How hard could that be?

* * *

 


	9. Chapter 9

“What exactly did he say?” Derek asked, looking at the herbs in the bottom of the pestle as Stiles ground them up.

“Take these herbs; mix them with three drops of your suspected familiars blood and drink.” He paused. “If I throw up all over the floor, you’re not what I’m looking for.” Stiles paused. “Although if you are, I might end up acting a little strangely for a few hours. He said it’s normal.” It was 9am – his dad had already left. Another day off spent at work.

“Strange? Stranger than normal?”

Derek was sitting on one of the kitchen chairs watching Stiles closely, he wasn’t smiling. “Shut up, dude! I’ll have you know, I am awesome.”

“What do the herbs do?” Derek didn’t like the smell of them, Stiles could tell from the way he wrinkled his nose.

“Apparently, my drinking blood isn’t a good idea if you aren’t my guide or something. This mixture is like…” He thought for a moment. “Like a safety net. So if I start throwing up all over the place, they’ll make sure I don’t really get hurt. Or something.”

“I don’t like this.” Derek growled.

“Man up. If I’m going to be doing this, I’ve got to do it right. Harry got to go to Hogwarts, and all I’ve got is a sour-wolf and a couple of books on herbs, so give me a break.”

Derek grunted. “What if I’m not… this guide thing?”

“Then I’m pulling this house apart until I find what it is.” He looked at the mixture in the bottom of the marble bowl. “Okay, Pass the vessel.”

He looked at the mug Derek handed over. “World’s Best Dad? I’m doing complicated magic experiments and ‘Worlds Best Dad’ is what I have to work with? Are young kidding me?” Stiles grumbled, dumping the herbs into the bottom of the mug. He added the hot water and poured a liberal amount of honey in. “You know, I got this for my dad when I was 9? He still uses it.” He stirred the mixture, which was laying the bottom of the mug like tar. “Does this look okay to you?”

“No.”

“You inspire me with confidence, Dude.” Stiles said, stirring faster. The water was an unattractive murky brown – he wasn’t looking forward to drinking it at all – and the thought of Derek’s blood in there made him want to gag. “Okay,” He handed the wolf a pin. “Do it.”

“What the hell is this?”

“It’s a pin. Prick your finger and drip some in.”

“Are you kidding me?” Derek snapped, walking over to the counter. “I’d heal before a single drop got out.” He opened the drawer and pulled out a knife.

“Woah! Dude!” Stiles panicked. “No! No no no no! You can’t- oh, gross!” It was too late, Derek had already pulled the sharp edge of the knife over his forearm. Blood running down his skin. He let a few drops fall into the mug and then turned to the sink. By the time Stiles had walked over to him, the water was running clear and all that remained of the cut was a pale pink line and some blood under his fingernails. “Don’t do that again!” Stiles snapped, pulling the knife out of his hand. “Never again!”

“Drink it.” Derek said. “Let’s get this over with.”

Stiles glared at him, before walking back to the table. The hot water was still brown, still gross. “This is disgusting.” He said, picking up the mug and taking a smell. “Like, I think I’m going to barf even before I drink it.” He paused. “You don’t have parvo or anything, do you? I’m not about to get rabies or something?” Before Derek could reply, he put the cup to his lips and took a gulp. Before his mouth could register the grossness of what he was drinking, he took another – and another, until all that was left was the dregs in the bottom of the mug.

Putting the mug down with a shaky hand, he looked at Derek and shrugged. His mouth was burning, perhaps he should have let it cool more – but he felt okay. Nothing was happening. He shrugged at Derek.

“Maybe you did something wrong?”

“Talon said I’d know right away.” His stomach gurgled unpleasantly. “Aside from needing to brush my teeth – I feel-” He was going to say ‘fine’, but the words never left his lips. The room started to spin, colours flashing behind his eyes like fireworks let off all at the same time. He could smell smoke, pine, vomit, and bleach – he gagged as his stomach heaved. He felt the world pitch, hitting the floor with his knees. Derek was holding on to him, but the cramp in his stomach was beyond anything he’d ever felt before. His skin was on fire, burning, searing.

“So hot.” He gasped. “Get this off me.” He tried to pull his hoodie off, but his arms were made of lead. “Get this off me!” He screamed, clawing at his clothes. Derek pulled, Stiles numbly aware through the pain that the wolf was trying to help, but every touch of his hands was like a burning brand – his skin hurt too much to stand it. “God!” He cried, as his super-heated skin touched the cold floor. His shirt was off, but it made no difference. His heart was beating so loudly that his world was franticly throbbing – vision blurred and distorted. He was aware of the hot tears running down his face, the sobbing that escaped his lips. He could see nothing but red, and gold.

Derek tried to touch him, but the heat of his hands burned Stiles deeper. He screamed out in pain, pushing the wolf away with his legs.

Stiles world ripped in two. He opened his eyes and saw Derek staring at him – face a mask of fear and panic. He could see Derek, and he could smell him – saw both Derek the man and Derek the wolf, sharing the same pace. Could see the colour of smell, the amber tones around him, green and blues – red and silvers, wrapped around items. Could see his father, standing at the sink, made up of coloured smoke. He saw the man take a drink, put the mug in the sink, and walk out the door – coloured vapour leaving a trail behind him.

The fire was still there, still burning him, but the pain was no longer blinding him. He pushed himself up from the floor, body moving in slow steps. Derek’s breath was a mixture of mint and lilac, it hung in the air in a cloud of colour – Stiles wondered if this what drugs were like.

“Stiles?” Derek’s voice was low, measured. Lilac rolling of his body like a powdered cloud. “Are you okay?” His breath mixed with the cloud of colour, moving it around his head like a paintbrush mixed with water. Stiles had never seen anything like it. The trash can in the corner was a like a rainbow, bright yellows and greens, pinks, turquoise and silver. He’d never seen anything more beautiful. “Stiles!” Derek said, hand half reaching out – as though he was too scared to touch him.

“So pretty.” Stiles managed. His voice feeling like it was a million miles away. He didn’t sound the same, like he was hearing his own words for the first time. Green smoke coming from his skin mixing with the lilac from Derek. “Colours.”

“Stiles, you need to listen to me.” Derek was saying, but his voice was a million years away, lost in a haze of purples and pink. Stiles stood up, managing to get to his feet without his world tipping sideways. “Stiles!”

But all Stiles could see was the backdoor, the colours of the morning and the smells of outside mixing together. The cool air touching his fevered skin was like summer rain, soothing him. He needed to get outside.

He stumbled towards the door, Derek talking to him, pleading with him, but his voice was so far away, and the colours of outside were too much. A shaking hand on the handle and he pulled, the cool air kissing his skin like a lover – he groaned in pleasure as the fire ebbed. He took one step, and then another, the forest at the back of the house stretching on for miles – he could see further into the trees than before – the green and gold swirling like water and smoke.

He walked down the few steps, seeing more – feeling more – than he ever did before. He was dimly aware of Derek talking to him, but it wasn’t getting past the sudden desire…

Stiles broke into a run, dashing directly for the dense trees.

* * *

 

He was free. Really, utterly, beautifully free. His bare feet hit the soft carpet of the woodland as he pushed his body further into the tree filled landscape. He could feel Derek, just behind him, running low to the ground – the lilac colours mixing with new red and gold spirals that Stiles saw when he blinked. He saw the colour of the air change – saw Isaac in the trees, running parallel to him. Derek was yelling, the sound felt like a vibration in his lungs.

“Stay away from him!”

Stiles was free, he wasn’t going to let anyone get in the way of this feeling. Colours around him mixed with smells, he knew Jackson was there by the sharp blue twinge of his overpriced cologne, Reevers bright orange mixed heavily with the yellow of Isaac. But he couldn’t stop.

Erica howled. A sound of joy and abandon. Scott appeared from the left, purple haze and turquoise.

Stiles ran with wolves.

* * *

 

“Is he okay?” Someone asked.

“I don’t know.”

“What happened?” Was that Jackson?

“I don’t know.”

“Derek! You have to know something!” That was Isaac. Stiles tried to open his eyes, but they felt as though his eyelids were made of lead. He groaned.

“Stiles!” That was Scott, grabbing his arm. Stiles tried again to open his eyes, managing only to see the faces of the entire pack looking down at him before he closed them again. “God.” He groaned. Everything was hurting. His toenails hurt, his hair hurt. His eyelashes felt like they were glued on. He forced his eyes open. The pack was still looking down at him. “Where am I?”

“In bed.” A strange voice said – it took him a few seconds to realise it was Reever. He tried to push himself up, only for 6 pairs of hands to push him back down. His mouth was full of a metallic tang he couldn’t place.

“What happened?”

“You wolfed out.” Scott said, sitting on the bed. “Like… you totally wolfed out – like you’d been bitten.”

“I didn’t bite him.” Derek said, his voice laced with an edge. Stiles wondered how many times he’d said that so far, it was starting to sound like a mantra.

“The colours.” Stiles said, opening his eyes again. They were gone, his world reduced to its normal pale shell. There was no swirling smoke and water around him. His disappointment was bitter in his mouth.

“Yeah – Pretty awesome.” Erica said. “You’re like… green. And yummy.”

“So yummy.” Reever added, “Like… like forests and pears.”

Isaac nodded, worryingly enough, so did Jackson and Boyd. Scott looked strained, Derek looked like he was going to punch someone.

“I saw colours.”

“Yeah, you get used to it.”

“They’re gone.”

“Oh.” Isaac sounded disappointed.

“What do you remember?” Derek asked, and Stiles got the feeling he wasn’t too happy about Scott sitting on the bed beside him. Isaac seemed pretty strained too.

“I was on fire.” He said, touching his chest, expecting to feel burns. All he could feel was his cool skin. “And all these colours, and _running_.” The last word came out on a sigh, like the pure bliss that it had been.

Everyone was smiling – well, everyone who wasn’t Derek. “Yeah, it was great.” Isaac said.

“Like, totally awesome.” Jackson cut in. “The best run _ever_.” He paused. “Although you kind of lost a bit of momentum after a while. You need to work on your cardio.” He added, as though it was the most normal thing in the world. Stiles was too sore to even try a smart retort.

“And then you passed out. And we carried you back.” Scott paused. “You were heavier.”

“I’ve been eating more.”

“No, like, really, really heavy. It took Jackson and Derek just to lift you.”

“Drink this.” Derek said, pushing a mug into his hand. “It’s the honey stuff.”

“What honey stuff?”

“Just move, Scott.” Derek snapped, pulling Scott off the bed by his arm and handing Stiles the mug. It wasn’t the ‘Worlds Best Dad’ one, which he was glad about. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to look at that mug again without feeling the fire over his skin. He sat up against the pillows, ignoring the pain in his body – and the concerned looks of the teenagers crowding his personal space. He took a long drink, glad of the bitter sweet taste. He could almost feel it working, it was only lukewarm – Derek normally made it too hot to drink, he wondered how long he’d been holding it in his hands.

“What time is it?” He said, feeling better with every sip.

“After 5.” Erica said.

“I could eat a horse.” He said, and Jackson laughed.

“I’ll order in.” Derek said, “Shower and get changed. Everyone downstairs.”

* * *

 

Scott stayed.

“Are you mad at me?”

“You’ve been acting like a total jerk for months.” Stiles said, standing up and testing his legs. They felt like jelly, but were strengthening up.

“You made out with Derek!” Scott hissed, and just for a second, he wished Scott a million miles away. He knew that Derek could hear them – so could the rest of the pack.

“Get a grip, Dude.” He said, padding to the bathroom. His feet were covered in dirt, jeans ripped at the bottom. A quick look in the mirror showed slight scratches on his skin where branches must have hit him. He put the now empty mug on the sink and turned on the shower, watching as the red pattern danced over his pale skin. Scott, who had never seen the reaction, stared at him from the doorway.

“What the hell is that?” He gasped.

“Oh,” Stiles said, shrugging with a calmness he wasn’t feeling. “Just some magic.”

* * *

 

The pack were sitting in the living room talking over the TV. A mountain of Chinese food was piled on the table, plates on knees and soda bottles balanced carefully around. Stiles told them about the books, the spells – and the world that Talon had told him was just beyond their sleepy town.

“And they are like vampires, only they suck out your soul, and look like Fabio.” He added. “And there are different types of were – like bears and tigers and all kinds of stuff.”

“And your magic?” Jackson said, stuffing a spring roll in his mouth. “You?”

“Yeah.”

“Like Harry Potter?”

“Ah… no.”

“Those hot chicks in Charmed?”

“Maybe.”

“Sweet. Pass the noodles.”

Derek was the only one sitting on the sofa, although not in his usual place. He was sitting directly behind Stiles, who was leaning back against his legs and feeling happier than he had in weeks. He felt connected again, like everything was okay. And with Isaac on one side and Scott on the other, he felt like his world was back spinning the way it should.

“So what happened today?” Erica asked, holding out the tub of egg noodles to Jackson.

“Well, I needed to find my guide, and Talon said it could be Derek , so I made… a potion. Kinda.” He took a drink of his coke. “And then everything went all freaky.”

“Does that mean Derek is your guide then?” Scott asked, not looking at the older wolf.

“I guess. I mean, Talon said if he wasn’t, the tea would make me spew black tar for a few hours. And if he was, then I’d take on his essence for a bit.” Stiles shrugged. “I guess that’s what happened.”

“That would explain the Alpha eyes then.” Boyd said, mouth full of dim sum.

“Huh?”

“You were all red eyes and gold smells.” Reever said, leaning over Isaac who almost purred at the touch of her hand on his leg. “And then you passed out and changed to green.”

“And pears.” Erica added.

“Yeah.” Reever sighed.

“What does that mean, like… for magic?” Jackson said, and Stiles wondered why he was so interested. “Can you do spells and freeze time and stuff?”

“Nah, at least... I don’t really know – the books I’ve got don’t have a lot of information on that. Mostly it’s just cats and spiders.”

“Gross.”

* * *

 

Stiles had never been so comfortable. It was the first thing that popped into his mind when he opened his eyes. He was squeezed between two warm bodies, a few more seconds to recognise Scott and Isaac. His head was resting against Derek’s leg, the Alphas hand was resting gently on his head, the pad of his thumb rubbing back and forth. He resisted the urge to snuggle further into the touch, knowing Derek would just pull away. Jackson was leaning against the other side of the sofa, his legs tangled up with Reever, who had her head resting on Isaacs chest. Erica and Boyd were curled around each other and Scott – only the difference in skintone made it possible to tell who was who. And all the while Derek’s hand was tracing lazy shapes in his buzzcut.

He heard his dad’s patrol car pull up, and expected Derek to move, or pull his hand away, but he didn’t budge. Even when the door opened, none of the wolves woke up around him. His dad was a pretty okay, guy – he trusted Stiles – but he wasn’t sure what he would think of the mass of sleeping teenagers and mound of takeaway food. Especially since Reever and Erica were there. Co-ed sleepovers probably weren’t high on his list of things he wanted Stiles involved in. Although… if Derek wasn’t going to move his hand, he might be against _same_ sex sleepovers well.

He heard his dad walk past the living room door, and then step backwards. Stiles didn’t dare move. He heard his sigh, and expected him to cough or maybe try to wake someone up. After a few moments, he heard his dad walk around the sofa and step carefully over Jackson and Reevers intertwined legs, leaning forward and picking up the empty cartons that we sitting on the table. Derek’s hand stopped moving the instant his dad stepped too close to Jackson. Stiles wondered if it was a pack thing.

“Sheriff.” He said, voice low.

“Hi son.”

“I’ll get that.” He said, trying to get up, only to have Scott and Isaac whine in protest at the movement. Stiles kept his eyes half shut, not wanting Derek to know he was awake.

“Looks like you had quite the party.” His dad smiled, “You stay put.”

“Just soda.” Derek said, “I made sure.”

“I trust you.” His dad said, a smile in his voice. Stiles wondered what exactly Derek had done to make his dad so damn trusting – because a few months ago he’d arrested the man for murder. “They look exhausted.”

“They spent the day running about like kids. ‘Working on their cardio’ or something. Looked like chase to me.”

“At least it keeps them out of trouble.” He paused, Stiles saw him lift a tub of chicken noodles. “Do you mind?”

“Eat it, it won’t keep.”

“You can’t eat that.” Stiles piped up. “It’s full of salt.”

At the sound of his voice, the other teens opened their eyes, stretching and yawning.

“What time is it?” Scott asked, untangling his legs from Erica and Boyd.

“After 9, kid. Do your parents know you’re here?”

The sudden reminder that it was much, much later than any of them realised kicked them into gear.

“My mom is going to kill me!” Scott groaned.

“I’m so grounded!” Reever said, standing up and swaying slightly.

“If anyone’s parent gives them a hard time, tell them to call me, and I’ll vouch that you were all watching TV like the good kids you think you are.” His dad laughed.

“Thanks!”

“Thanks, Sir.”

* * *

 


	10. Chapter 10

“Sunday!” Stiles yelled, putting his head under his pillow. His dad was banging on his bedroom door, he could already hear the water clunking through the pipes as Derek was in the shower. “It’s Sunday! We get to sleep past 8 on a Sunday!”

“Stiles, get up. We’re going to miss the opening.”

“What opening?” Stiles said, sitting up in bed. He tried to remember if something worth getting out of bed was going on.

“State Fair.” His dad said, hammering once more on the door before walking down the stairs. Stiles grinned. State Fair meant one thing – his dad never missed one. Never. They were going to be able to spend the whole day together. He launched himself out of bed and into the shower. He ran out of hot water almost as soon as he got in, but the icy water didn’t seem to affect him much – his skin stayed warm to the touch even after standing under the cold spray. He could hear someone in his room, from the prickling of the hairs on the back of his neck, he assumed it was Derek.

Jumping out and turning off the water, he wrapped the fluffy towel around his waist and walked into his room. It _was_ Derek, he was standing in the middle of the floor with damp hair and his typical black jeans and grey jumper combo. “Are you allergic to colour?” Stiles said, walking past him and pulling open his dresser drawers. Everything was arranged in colours. “Did you do this?” Stiles said, pointing to the rainbow shades. He owned a lot of red.

“Nothing you have matches.” Derek said, as though that made all the sense in the world. “You are the most disorganised person I’ve ever met.”

Stiles pulled out the green tee and matching plaid, throwing them on the bed. He could see the vein in Dereks neck throb. “I need you to call Scott.” Derek said, watching as Stiles padded about the room.

“Why?” Although Scott seemed to be getting over his ‘lets ignore Stiles for a month or two’ phase, Stiles wasn’t sure if he really wanted to forgive him just yet.

“Reevers pack is going to be at the fair, and they want to meet… everyone.” Derek said, as though it hurt him to say it. “Isaac, Boyd and Erica are going to be there, but Scott needs to be there too.” He paused. “And Jackson.”

“And you want me to ask them.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes.”

“Are you making breakfast?”

“Maybe.”

“I want pancakes,” Stiles said. “A whole stack to myself. Then I’ll call them.”

* * *

 

Stiles and his dad were walking around the field that had been transformed into the biggest event within traveling distance of Beacon Hills. He loved the fair, the sounds, the people – the rides. Derek had taken Isaac and Boyd in his car, Erica had arrived with her parents (who seemed utterly thrilled that Erica was now apparently better and had a core group of friends). Jackson had arrived, much to Stiles surprise, seemed more than willing to show face at what could be a really awkward meeting. Scott had agreed, although he didn’t sound too happy about it over the phone.

His dad had stood and talked to Erica’s parents, they had gone to school together and spent some time talking about the lacrosse match.

“I hope you don’t mind Erica being late out last night.” His dad said, “When I arrived they were half asleep watching TV in the living room.” He glanced over at them with a grin. “Gotta say, when I was their age eating takeaway and watching TV isn’t exactly what I’d be doing if I had the house to myself on a Saturday night!”

* * *

 

“This is Jackson,” Derek was saying, as Stiles stood beside Scott. Reevers family were hard to miss. The boys were all taller than Danny – each with copper hair and liberal freckles. They moved like one person, it was obvious to anyone who knew anything about werewolves that theirs was a tight knit pack. The difference between the two packs was like night and day.

“Hi.” Jackson said, looking slightly intimidated. The other wolves smiled. All Stiles could make out was lots and _lots_ of white teeth.

“And Scott.”

“Not yours?”

“He’s a member of my pack, but he was marked by our last Alpha.” Derek clarified. Stiles was surprised that Reevers mom (Gail) could tell that Scott wasn’t bitten by Derek. He wondered what else she could tell just by looking, or smelling – or whatever.

“Makes for a difficult dynamic.” Gail said. “Trying to fit in to a pack with a new Alpha.” She smiled at Scott. It was very clear that she was Reevers mom. They were almost identical. Then her green eyes focused on Stiles, who was trying to hang back.

“And this is?” She said, looking him up and down.

“Stiles.” Derek managed, and Stiles could hear his teeth grinding together. “He’s… not marked.”

“Yes,” She nodded, sniffing the air. Her green eyes widened. “You cannot mark him.” She held out her hand to Stiles, who shook it awkwardly. “Honoured to meet you. The Harriet Valley pack will always welcome you, should you need a new Den.” She said, her touch warm. “We could not believe that Reever had found a pack with a Shaman.” She paused, and when she spoke again, it was carefully measured. “You must be careful. Once,  there were many Shaman, but they were hunted for their power. No wolf will harm you – but there are more than wolves than run in the wild places.” She dropped her eyes, and let go of his hand. “Generations ago we lost a Shaman. We have her things, safe, hidden. We would be honoured if you would take them, and remember our pack as Allies.”

Stiles wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say, so he just nodded. “Sure.” Which seemed to please Gail, and her pack, who all let out a collective breath. They were so close, so obviously pack, that Stiles felt almost ashamed of the teenagers around him. He saw it in Derek’s eyes – the pack he had made was nothing like the pack he had once belonged to.

They parted ways, Reever staying with Isaac although Stiles could see the way she watched her family walk away that she wanted to join them. He wondered at the bond she shared with Isaac, that was so strong she would leave her entire family for him.

“That was terrible.” Boyd said, sullenly. “They made us look like idiots.”

“They couldn’t help it.” Derek said, running his hand over his face. “They’ve been pack their whole lives – and Gail has been an Alpha since she was 15 years old.”

“We looked like a bunch of rejects.” Jackson said. “Did you see the way they moved?”

“We’re only a new pack.” Derek said, defensively. “We’ll be like that, one day.”

“How?” Scott said. “They were born werewolves!”

“That’s not actually true.” Reever said, her voice light and breezy. “Half my family were born human, and later turned. The reason we’re so close is because we… they… do everything together.”

“Like what?” Erica said, kicking at the packed earth with her boot.

“Well, every night, mom takes everyone out for a run – like we did yesterday. And then we had dinner. Every day. No matter what.”

“I don’t have the time to run about the woods with you losers.” Jackson said. “I’ve got a life.”

“Well, that’s up to you. But don’t stand there and say you feel like a reject if you don’t plan to change it.” Reever snapped. “Maybe the reason you aren’t pack is because you all act like you’re too good to be here!” She turned and stormed off, dragging Isaac behind her, who just shrugged at them as he disappeared into the crowd of people.

“What’s got into her?” Erica grimaced.

“She left her pack for us.” Derek said, sadness in his voice. “She can’t go back.”

* * *

 

She couldn’t go back. Derek explained it all to them, as they sat around one of the picnic tables that had been set up. Once Reever left her pack for Isaac, she could _never_ go back. She thought she was leaving her family for another close knit pack, a group of wolves who did everything together – and what she got was an Alpha who acted like a lone wolf, and a group of kids who spent most of their time avoiding each other.

“She’s hurt, disappointed and very lonely.” He finished, looking at his soda. “Losing a pack like hers… and suddenly having nothing – it’s very hard.”

Stiles thought about Derek, around the same age as Reever, who lost his pack too. He wondered if he felt lonely too. Looking around the table, he could see that Derek’s words were not lost on the others. Even Scott, who had been picking at his lunch, was looking sombre.

“Do you think we could become like them?” Jackson asked, voice quiet. “Like a real family?” And Stiles remembered that Derek wasn’t the only person at the table who might need more than they let on. Jackson spent most of his time acting like he was too good for them, but he had issues at home, he wasn’t as cold as he liked to make out.

“I don’t know.” Derek admitted. It was the first time Stiles had seen him like this in front of other people. Normally he was brooding and dangerous, now he was just _Derek_. “It would take a lot of work.”

“We’ve got something that don’t though.” Erica said, sitting up a little straighter. When they looked at her blankly, she grinned. “We’ve got Stiles. And they were all over him.”

“Yeah!” Scott suddenly said. “They kinda were.”

“No, they weren’t.” Jackson said, but Stiles could tell he was arguing just to argue. Jackson could be like that.

“Whatever, dude.” Scott said, good naturedly. “Stiles totally got their attention. They were watching him the whole time, and Gail didn’t even bother shaking our hands or anything.” He grinned at Stiles, who grinned back. It was obvious Scott was trying to prove that he had Stiles back again.

“Yes.” Derek said, although you could tell he wasn’t happy about that. “They will try to take him, if they can.”

“Never.” Stiles grinned widely at the wolves. “You guys are my pack, and I’m not leaving.”

* * *

 

Stiles found his dad chatting away to some of his old fishing buddies, exactly where he’d left him hours ago. They were checking out some of the lures and rods on display at one of the booths.

“This is my son, Stiles.” His dad said, putting his arm around Stiles shoulders. “You remember him.”

“Last time we saw you, you were about this high.” One of the guys said. “Your dad was telling us about your game. Good showing, sport.”

“Thanks.” Stiles grinned.

“We’re trying to get your old man to come fishing with us next weekend.”

“If you can get him to take time off work, you’re doing better than me.” Stiles laughed. “I was gonna spend the weekend with Isaac and Derek, anyway. You know… getting everything ready for the new build.”

“We’ll see.” Was all his dad said, but Stiles could tell by the way he was eyeing up the lures and flies… he was already planning his trip.

* * *

 

Derek was stripped to the waist, Stiles was finding it a full time job not to notice. The fact that Jackson, Boyd, Scott and Isaac were also half naked didn’t even register in his mind. Stiles was sitting on the hood of Derek’s car (much to the Alpha’s consternation) as they worked on the hollow shell that was once the Hale house. Derek had hired people to come out and start tearing it down, but first he wanted to make sure there was nothing left that could cause people to ask difficult questions. Like why there was an empty grave in the back yard, and why the basement looked like a torture chamber.

Reever and Erica were moving the debris the boys were throwing out of the missing windows and hauling it into the back of the truck Derek had hired. Reever had brought with her the books and personal effects of the Harriet Valley Shaman, and Derek had told Stiles to get started working his way through them, rather than getting under their feet.  

There were a lot of overlapping mixtures – both his books and these new ones (written in a light curving script, by ‘Pip’) told him that Comfrey Leaves were better than Arnica, and that he should be drinking at least one mug a day of the Honey, mint and walnut leaf tea that Derek handed him each morning. Pip though, had a lot more information on werewolf familiars – because she had one.

‘ _Gavin seems unhappy to share these powers – for they do weaken him overly_.’ She wrote. ‘ _His pack believe that if he had been an Alpha, things may have been different – it is unlikely that an Alpha would allow the siphoning of power_.’ Stiles tried not to think too much about that – He’d promised Talon that he’d keep away from those spells until he had someone there to stop things going too far. The result could kill him, and his familiar.

‘ _Blood is not the only essence that can alter my state to heightened_.’ Stiles wasn’t left wondering too long what she meant by that, because the next paragraph was detailed. ‘ _Sexual intercourse produces no enhancements, however, if taken by mouth, semen heightens the touch/smell threshold. Blood still remains the only way to enter a full shift._ ’

Stiles blanched. Too much information too early in the morning. ‘ _The strength and power of the were lasts only as the quantity of blood ingested. So far, Gavin has been unwilling to test how much I can take from him_.’

Blood. That was all Stiles could think about. If he ever wanted to see those colours, and run with his pack, he was going to have to drink Derek’s blood.

‘ _Direct ingestion of the blood is the fastest and most efficient way to shift. The suggested herbs cause pain and burning of the skin as they try to heal while the blood works its way into the system_.’

Huh. Good to know. He read on, wondering if Pip and Gavin had kinky blood drinking sex – because she wrote about it a **lot** – she listed a few herbs that could affect him as well, although from what he could see, most of it was so she could get him to give her as much blood as she liked. Herbs to dull his senses, his reaction times – his understanding. From what Stiles read – this Pip wasn’t the best kind of Shaman to be. She used her guide like a walking blood bank.

‘ _Gavin died_.’ He read. ‘ _I cannot live without blood. I will need another familiar_.’ Stiles snapped the book shut. Not wanting to read any more. This was not him – Pip read like an addict, her need for more and more blood made her sound like a vampire than what he had expected. He had hoped the books would help – but as he watched Derek throw a burnt beam out of the open door, he thought about the way he had felt, running through the trees with the others. The colours, the strength and freedom. Just how much he thought about it, how much he ached to do it again, how his dreams were vivid and impossible to forget.

He knew addiction. Knew how strong the pull could be. But he couldn’t hurt Derek. He wouldn’t do that to _Derek_.

Stiles ignored the voice in his head, that taunted – remembered the fear when Derek had grabbed him, choking the life out of him, the feeling of being hurt, the wolf slamming him against walls, and cars…

 _Why not?_ It whispered.

Fire danced in his amber eyes as he cradled the book in his arms.

* * *

 

_I don’t know what to do._

**How about… you tell him.** Stiles read the message and grimaced.

_You don’t know what he’s like – I’ll end up slammed against walls and stuff._

**He’s abusive? You need help? I can get up there in a few hours.**

_No, no! He’s not like that. It’s just… he forgets that he’s a lot stronger than me._

**Not for much longer, dude. I spoke to Daniel (Sunnys dad) and he said once you start down this path, you’re only going to get stronger, faster. He asked around. Shamans in wolf packs were pretty important.**

_Like how? Right now I’m just left behind while they all go out running. Bored._

**LOL.  From what he’s said, Shaman in wolf packs can keep them from hunters, cast protection spells, advanced healing… everything a pack needs. Also, being that ‘You’re a wizard, Harry’ you’re blood means you can’t be bitten or influenced by others – so no crazy voodoo can touch you**.

 _Sweeeeeet_. Stiles typed, sitting at his desk, trying not to think about the books he’d stashed under his bed. Derek and the pack had left a few hours ago to ‘run wild’ for a bit, leaving Stiles at home. He’d logged on and Talon (Who didn’t ever seem to sleep) was online at the Darkhunter site.

**It’s a pretty nice deal. Although the blood thing, you’ll need to be careful. Most magic is tied pretty close to blood, so it’s not uncommon for non-humans to drink it for power. Hell, if I’d not bitten Sunny, I’d be dust right now, so it can be helpful. Just remember – you are what you eat. ;)**

_Gross dude. I don’t wanna end up a grumpy assed sour-wolf_.

**LOL. Gotta go though – my wife has just put her paintbrushes in the fridge and in about 4 seconds she’s going to start pulling the house apart because she can’t find them.**

_LOL - TC Dude_

**TTYL**

* * *

 

Stiles sat on his bed and listened. In the distance he could make out the distant howls of wolves – the local paper had said that it was strange for them to be here – a sign of change and the destruction of their natural habitat. They were trying to set up a reserve, but so far no one had actually _seen_ the wolves. Stiles hoped it stayed that way.

He was sitting on the end of his bed, book open flat beside him as he wrote down detailed notes. He’d found a mixture that if swallowed could slow the effects of wolfsbane in the blood, giving the wolf time to find and burn whatever strain he had come into contact with. If he’d known that last year, Derek wouldn’t have asked him to cut his arm off.

He’d decided to make his own notes, rather than Pips journals. He didn’t like reading the brown leather note books. It seemed after Gavin died (or was killed because Pip didn’t give a crap about him) she got herself a new familiar from the same pack. She wrote that they no longer treated her with as much respect (Stiles was pretty sure the woman was an idiot if she didn’t understand why) and she was offended.

The last entry spoke of a danger arriving, that was seeking great power – _‘I am not concerned. I am more powerful than they. If I must I will drain the pack_.’ That was the last thing that had been written, the rest of the unlined book was blank.

He heard his dad welcoming Derek back with a ‘long day, son?’ just as his window was pushed further open and Isaac climbed through.

“Hi Dude.” He said, half falling through the frame as Scott pushed him.

“Hi guys.” Stiles grinned. “Good run?”

“Yeah.” Scott said, his jeans caught on the lock. He took a few seconds to untangle himself.

“The best.”

“We just wanted to ask if you were okay.” Scott said, finally freeing his jeans from the lock and tumbling through the window. “You’ve been a little quiet these past few days.”

Stiles shrugged. Every night that week, the pack had gone off on a run, at school they were closer than ever – spent their spare time at the Hale house, which was now completely demolished – not even a trace of the old burnt out shell was left. Derek had spent his days in the kitchen with the architect – Stiles had taken a look at the plans. He had expected Derek to build something like his old house – but when he had planned was massive and very modern. Solar panels, large open plan rooms – a bathroom that was almost as large as Stiles bedroom… built in recycled woods and steel.

And his dad had arranged to go on a fishing trip. And that _hurt_ – because he’d never taken that kind of time out for him.

“You’ve got the house to yourself all weekend.” Isaac said. “Can we stay over? Did you ask your dad?”

“Yeah, I asked him. He wasn’t too keen, but Derek agreed to keep an eye on us, so that pretty much clinched the deal.”

“Awesome!”

“Sweet.”

* * *

 

His dad left at 5am, waking Stiles up before he left to tell him to behave and to have fun. Stiles mumbled ‘love you’ before falling back to sleep.

* * *

 

He was woken at 7am by Derek – who thought it was perfectly okay to wander into his room and shake him away with one hand and thrust a mug of tea under his nose.

“What the hell, dude!” Stiles grumbled, trying to roll over and go back to sleep. “Piss off!”

“We need to go shopping.” Derek said, “There isn’t anything for breakfast.”

“Its 7am!” Stiles snapped, trying to burrow under the covers. “It won’t even be open!”

“Isaac, Reever and Erica are coming over at 9 for breakfast.” Derek said, pulling the covers off the bed and thrusting the mug in Stiles face again. “Get up.”

* * *

 

The store was empty. Like totally empty. There wasn’t a single car in the parking lot, and only one sleepy attendant at the checkout. Stiles had grabbed whatever Derek had thrown at him and pulled it on, not noticing until he was in the car that he was cuddled into Derek’s grey long sleeved tee and his leather jacket. Both were just a little too big for him, making it look like he was playing dress up. Derek had a black jumper and jeans, looking (once again) like a drug dealer.

Stiles kind of felt a little badass though, as he walked lazily behind Derek, hands deep in the pockets of the Alphas favourite jacket. It was warm, and smelt like Derek – Stiles wondered if he would mind if Stiles stole it. The wolf though, didn’t seem to notice as he pushed the cart with his usual deliberateness. He was buying twice as much as normal, Stiles was going to ask if they really needed so much bread – until he remembered just how much the pack could eat once they got started.

“Can you make pancakes?” Stiles asked, as Derek filled up the cart.

“No one else eats them.” Derek said, putting 4 cartons of eggs in the cart.

“I like them.”

“What kind?”

“Just plain. With Syrup.” Stiles paused. “Please?”

Derek didn’t look like he was affected by the pleading tone, or Stiles batting his eyelashes comically, but he shrugged. “Fine. If you take out the processed cheese slices I know you put in earlier.”

“Deal.” Stiles grinned, digging under the piles of food and pulling out the offending item.

“I don’t know why you keep doing that.” Derek said. “You know I’m not going to buy it.”

“One of these days I’m going to sneak something past you.”

“Highly unlikely.”

* * *

 

Isaac, Reever, Erica and Boyd were standing by the back door when they pulled up in the car. It was just after 10am, they had spent almost 2 hours in the store – Stiles had forgotten just how anal Derek was when it came to food. They helped carry the bags inside, although they all stepped back as one as Derek put the food away – especially after Stiles put the eggs on the wrong shelf in the fridge and Derek nearly bit his head off.

So they sat at the table while Derek made breakfast, chatting and laughing away. No one commented on the fact that Stiles had taken off Dereks jacket only to show that he was also wearing Dereks tee-shirt. Stiles was wedged between Isaac and Reever, both whom he occasionally caught sniffing him. The fourth time, he glared at Isaac – who had very nearly knocked him out by head-butting him trying to sniff his neck.

“Do you mind, dude?”

“Sorry.” The wolf grinned apologetically.

“He can’t help it.” Reever added. “You just smell so good.”

“I smell just the same as I always did.” Stiles said, “I’ve not changed anything.”

“Leave him alone, you two.” Derek snapped. “You don’t see Erica and Boyd climbing all over him.”

“Give me half a chance.” Erica purred, and Stiles felt himself blush awkwardly. “It’s alright for you, you get him all to yourself wh-”

“Erica!” Derek snapped – even Stiles could hear the Alpha command in his voice. She went quiet, although her eyes flashed dangerously. “Who wants what?”

In the end, it turned out that the only person who had pancakes was Stiles, although Reever did steal a few bites when she thought he wasn’t looking. When she did though, Dereks eyes flashed red – he wasn’t happy if anyone touched Stiles food. He figured that was a wolf thing, because when Boyd tried the same thing with Erica, she stabbed him in the leg with her fork – causing him to almost spill his glass of orange juice. Only Derek’s Alpha speed stopped it from flying over the table and soaking everything.

“Nice save!” Stiles cheered. Derek just rolled his eyes.

* * *

 

“So if you take a bit of Dereks blood, you get to be a ‘were for a little while?” Isaac said, eyes bright.

“Yeah. But it can be really bad too.” Stiles admitted. “This Pip, the Shaman that was killed – she was addicted to it. She killed her guide in the end, because she took too much.”

“But you ran for _hours_ last week, and you said you only took 3 drops.” Boyd said. “So you don’t need a lot.”

“I’m worried I might turn out like her.” Stiles said, toying with the sleeves of the tee-shirt. “It’s all I can think about – running, the colours, the smells.”

“But you could run with us.” Isaac said.

“But I could turn into a blood sucking monster.”

“Doubtful.” Derek said, leaning against the counter.

“You don’t know that.” Stiles said. “Last week... I seriously was ready to drain you dry.”

“But you didn’t.” Isaac pointed out.

“But I wanted to.”

“But you didn’t.” Derek said. “There is only one way to figure out what to do. Call Scott and Jackson.” He said, pushing himself off the counter and walking out of the room. “We’re going running.”

Isaac and Erica whooped in glee, only to be cut short by Derek snapping: “After you wash up.”

* * *

 

Derek stood in the kitchen, holding the knife in his hand, while his Betas paced restlessly. “Are you sure you just drink it? No herbs or teas?”

“Yup. Directly from the source.” Stiles said, trying not to think how gross the idea of licking Derek's blood was going to be. If he barfed over anyone, he was aiming for Jackson, who’d done nothing but complain since he’d arrived.

“Ok, lets get this done.” Derek said pulling the blade over his forearm. The cut bloomed over his skin, blood flowing for only a few seconds before the wound healed. He held his arm out to Stiles, who hadn’t really thought just how awkward it was going to be licking Derek Hale in front of a room of teenagers.

“Oh, this is gross.” Scott said, as Stiles tried to grab Derek’s arm and look like he knew what he was doing. He leaned down and ran his tongue over the slightly salty skin, trying not to think about the heat and smell of the blood. Derek hadn’t moved, but under the light pressure of his lips, Stiles could feel his heart skip and double. The blood was warm, metallic – beyond gross. It coated his mouth, making him feel like throwing up, he tried to fight his gag reflex – he was never going to be a blood drinking monster if it was that disgusting. Pulling back from Derek, he swayed slightly, only to be propped up by Boyd and Isaac who took the opportunity to sniff his hair.

“Anything?”

“I’m gonna barf.” He managed, before blacking out.

* * *

 

“He smells fucking amazing.”

“Leave him alone, Jackson.” Derek snapped, as Stiles forced his eyes open. His world was coloured smoke. He was still standing, so Boyd and Isaac didn’t drop him, he was grateful.

“But he smells intense.” Jackson was saying. “What the hell is going on?”

“Colours.” Stiles mumbled. Talking was difficult. Last time he’d shifted Derek had been Lilac, but all he was now was red and gold. Could people change their colours?

“You blacked out for a few seconds.” Derek was saying, the air around him moving and swirling.

“You were lilac.” Was all he managed. Derek looked annoyed, colour changing around tinged to blue.

“Lilac is panic, fear.” Isaac supplied, blowing yellow across Stiles eyes. “Derek is mostly always red and gold.”

“Alpha colours.” Reever said from behind him. He knew she was there, could already make out everyone just by the colours of the room.

“Your green.”

“Really fucking amazing.” Jackson said again. “Why does he smell like... like... why does he smell so _good_?”

“Touch him, Jackson, and I’ll rip your throat out.”

“With his teeth.” Stiles said, causing the Alpha to twitch a smile for a second. Stiles was able to stand on his own now, although Isaac and Boyd were still holding on to him. “I feel good. Great.” He walked a few steps, disturbing the air around him in puffs of coloured smoke. “Can think better now. Not so ... desperate... as last time.”

“Good.” Derek said, opening the door to outside, letting Stiles stand in the mixture of colour and smells for a few moments. The sensation made him sway again – so delicious, intoxicating.

“Lets run.”

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

Derek had left them in the living room, all of them squeezed onto the sofa in a mass of arms and legs – drunkenly giggling and still high from their run.

Stiles felt drunk, totally woozy and unable to form words properly, which everyone around him thought was beyond hilarious. He could here Derek in the kitchen, still see the powered smell of red and gold where he had been standing, confused with the mass of smells from the pack climbing over him. Isaac and Jackson were taking turns to sniff the inside of his neck, Stiles too far gone on the scents and smells around him to care much, even when Jackson actually licked him.

“Gross.” Was all he managed – and the next thing he knew, he was being lifted off the sofa by his shoulders.

“Will you knock it off!” Derek snapped, setting Stiles on his feet.

“I don’t mind.” Stiles swayed, Derek grabbing his arms to stop him from falling over.

“Scott, call for Pizza or something,” Derek said, holding Stiles upright. “I’ll be right back.” The Alpha turned Stiles toward the door and frogmarched him upstairs.

Once in his room, Stiles bellyflopped on the bed, sending puffs of colourd smoke and smells forming around his head. He giggled.

“You are drunk.” Derek said, grabbing his leg as he lay on his face, and pulling off his shoe.

“I’m so happy.” Stiles slurred. “Got to run with my pack.”

“Yes, you did.” Derek agreed, pulling the other shoe off. “But now you’re going to sleep.”

“Can sleep in my clothes.” Stiles mumbled into the pillow. “They’re all muddy.”

“It’ll do for now.” Derek said, and Stiles heard his bedroom door shut with a click before falling into an exhausted sleep.

* * *

 

Stiles woke up with a jolt. The house was totally quiet – too quite – he panicked. He was fully clothed, in his room, but couldn’t remember why – or how – he was there. His thoughts were jumbled, messy – his heart beating so loudly he felt as though it could jump from his chest.

He slid from the bed, but his legs were too weak to hold his weight and he crumpled to the floor like a ragdoll, the air leaving his lungs in one breath. Over the sound of his heart, he heard his room door fly open, and strong arms picking him up off the floor.

“Stiles!” Derek said, and Stiles felt himself go limp with relief. If Derek was here, then it was going to be okay.

“What happened?” He whispered, grabbing at Derek's arms to stop him from collapsing again.

“Nothing.” Derek was saying, putting him on the bed. “Nothing. Everything is fine.”

“Where is everyone?”

“Asleep. In the living room.” Derek answered, voice low. “You stay right here. I’ll be right back.” He pulled away, Stiles sitting on the bed, swayed slightly at the loss of the hands holding him in place. His eye sight had adjusted to the darkness of the room, and he could make out the shapes and comforting familiarity of his surroundings. His heart started to beat normally again. Derek was gone no longer than 5 minutes, padding back through the bedroom in the darkness with a mug of tea. Stiles held out his hands and took it from him, trying to avoid thinking about the fact that Derek was wearing only a pair of tight black boxers. He took a sip, which burned the inside of his mouth, but almost instantly made him feel better.

“It takes me ages to make this.” He said, taking another sip. “You have to crush all the leaves and then steep it...”

“I made a lot of it.” Derek was saying, as he sat on the edge of the bed, the movement nearly making Stiles spill the tea. “It’s in the cupboard by the coffee. In a jar. You just add a couple of spoonfuls to hot water.”

“Is everyone okay?” Stiles asked, trying to remember what had happened. Everything was a blur.

“Yes. After you went to bed we had pizza. They’re all downstairs in sleeping bags.”

“What happened?”

“We went running, came back. Put you to bed.” Derek said, watching Stiles sip the tea. “Thats it.”

“Oh.” Stiles said. His head was much clearer already, although Derek was sitting on his bed, wearing nothing but boxer shorts. No wonder he was having issues sorting out his thoughts.

“You feel better now?”

“Yeah.” Stiles said, hoping that he was managing to look calm and relaxed while his brain was fighting with his hormones. He put the mug on his bedside table and tried to stand, pretty surprised that his legs once again buckled. He sat back down on the bed heavily.

“You need to go back to sleep.” Derek was saying.

“I can’t sleep in my clothes.” Stiles said, a feeling of déjà vu washing over him. “They’re covered in mud.”

 “Fine.” Derek said, grumpily. “It’s 2am. I just want to go back to sleep.” The Alpha reached out and pulled the long sleeved grey t-shirt off Stiles, as though it was the most normal thing in the world. Stiles was having issues with his lungs – because they didn’t seem to be working. Derek didn’t seem to be aware of the sudden lack of oxygen in the room though – he just neatly folded the shirt like it was nothing new for him to strip Stiles down. In the dark. On his bed.

Dear God.

Blood rushed to his groin, just as Derek got off the bed to put the shirt on the chair at the desk. Stiles didn’t want Derek to know he was hard – but... the last time Derek had known he was hard it had been... well... amazing. Until he’d pushed him away. He was still working out what he should do when Derek was suddenly there, fumbling with the buttons of his jeans.

“Jesus, Stiles.” He said. “Are you just going to sit there? Help me.”  He said. Stiles looked dead ahead, not trusting himself to move. Unfortunately, dead ahead put him level with Derek's navel and – dear God – the line of hair that disappeared under his tight (so very tight) boxers. Before he could think better of it – before he could even think - Stiles leaned forward and licked the hard line of Derek's flat, toned stomach.

Which was such a stupid idea.

Derek froze, and then, very slowly, and very gently, pushed him away. “Stiles.” He said, and his voice was distant. “Don’t ever do that again.” And then he was gone, and the click of the door was like a slam, because Stiles knew that he’d just fucked everything up.

* * *

 

Months passed. Derek’s house was almost finished, all that was left was to get the carpets and painting done – then buy the furniture. It was a massive building, over 3 floors, and a basement that was twice as big as the house that stood over it. Derek had designed an underground training base, complete with its own pool. It had cost him millions to build – Lydia talked about it like it was the mecca of housing, Isaac had kittens over his rooms (he had a whole suite) and Erica and Boyd were already hinting that Derek didn’t need to build additional houses on the land because they could all just live there.

Stiles stood in the middle of the great room, with its glass walls and hard, unforgiving lines and sighed. He loved this house. He’d even earmarked rooms, because he was going to be staying here. Derek didn’t know that yet, but Derek didn’t know everything, and Stiles had been keeping a lot of things close to his chest.

Isaac was still recovering from Moonsickness – a flu-like infection that stopped a ‘were from shifting at the full moon. It should have killed him, but Stiles had been working on his spells and herbs for a while now, and every day Isaac would show up at the Stilinski house and strip naked in Stiles room, standing over the same sheet that had once been covered in honey drops.

Derek would be there– because leaving Stiles alone with one of his best friends just wasn’t cool, apparently.

“This is super uncomfortable.” Isaac complained, as Stiles used a paintbrush to draw runes on Isaacs’s naked back. “I don’t understand why you have to be here.”

“The last time you were alone with Stiles you tried to lick him.” Derek snapped, back to them as he clicked through Stiles files of research. Books were so last century – he’d converted it all to the PC.

“That was ages ago.” Isaac grimaced.

“It was last week, dude.” Stiles laughed, totally unconcerned. It had taken him a while to mention the smell thing to Talon. Turns out – power is attractive to all supernatural beings. It smells like pears and can be scented for miles.”I didn’t mind.” He added, noticing the blush over Isaacs skin. “What’s a little scenting between friends, right?”

“Yeah, it’s not like I’m the only one who does it.” Isaac complained, as Stiles dipped the paint brush back into the bowl of brackish green water and started copying the runes from his note book on to Isaacs bare chest. Along the way, seeing his friend naked had just stopped being a ‘thing’ and was just part of Isaac being… well… Isaac. Reever couldn’t be in the room at the same time as the drawing, because the little ginger werewolf had some uncomfortable effects on Isaac (namely that he couldn’t be around her without his boner trying to poke Stiles in the eye and the fact that every time he went near the boy she growled low and dangerously) “Erica doesn’t get yelled at and she pretty much dry humps him.”

“Erica isn’t the one naked.” Derek said, not turning around.

“Give her half a chance.” Isaac muttered, and Stiles saw Derek clench his fists in frustration. Stiles winked at Isaac who grinned back. “Can you please just leave?” Isaac whined. “I already feel like crap. I don’t need my Alpha here too.”

“How’s Reever taking it?”

“Good. She’s gotten over the whole ‘Isaac is going to die’ thing. Although she still sometimes gets a scent of this... sickness... and freaks out.” Reever had been inconsolable when Isaac has taken ill. She’d had to take a week off school just to get over it – and she still cried, broke down and sobbed like a little kid if anyone joked about Isaacs inability to shift.

“Your just lucky I’m a fucking Ravenclaw, buddy.” Stiles said, drawing runes down the back of his friend’s legs. “Another three days of this and you’ll be running wild and I’ll be saved from having to look at your naked ass every night.”

“You get off on it.” Isaac said, causing them both to laugh.

“Dude, I’m working here!” Stiles snorted. “If I get this spelling wrong, you’re gonna shift into a tree frog or something.”

“You better be kidding.” Isaac said, freezing in place, which made Stiles laugh louder.

“Maybe,” Stiles snorted.

Once the drawing was complete, Stiles walked around Isaacs body and nodded. “Looks good to me. Three more days and you’ll be off running again.” Stiles tried not to let his disappointment show – As Isaac hadn’t been able to shift, he’d spent each night with Stiles. Mostly they’d done homework, or played video games – they’d gotten pretty inseparable. He’d even gotten used to the fact that his friend occasionally tried to lick him when he wasn’t paying attention. He liked it – liked feeling that he was a member of the pack – they were always all over each other, and most of the time when they’d be all wrapped up on the floor Stiles would be sitting on the sofa. Where Derek insisted he stayed. Turned out that if Derek was on a ‘no touch’ rule with Stiles, then so was the rest of the pack.

Until Derek left the room, or wasn’t around. Erica and Jackson had a nasty habit of pulling him into cupboards at school and leaving trails of saliva half way down his neck. It had stopped freaking him out after the first couple of weeks. Although his reputation at school was shot to hell – because neither of them tried to hide it. He’d been asked out by three different guys (Although Danny still hadn’t changed his mind about Stiles being his ‘type’) and 2 girls who he was pretty sure had never looked at him twice before they caught Erica trying to eat his neck.

The only one who didn’t want to ‘dry hump’ him as Isaac put it, was the one person he really _wanted_ to try. Derek.

* * *

 

They were all out running, the last night before the full moon when Stiles would finally get to go with them and feel like a real member of the pack. He was standing in the middle of the great room – the new and improved Hale pack residence. Lydia had gone home hours ago, so he was stuck there until the pack got back. With no furniture, heating or water – Stiles was seriously bored.

Luckily, he had his phone – so headphones in and music blaring, he pulled out his equipment from his backpack. Runes, he’d worked them out at last, protection circles and binding words – Talon had talked him through the information like a pro. It was one of the reasons that the decorators hadn’t been in yet. Stiles had insisted, and when he wanted something, he tended to get it. The preparation was gross, blood (from each member of the pack) and a few herbs – ashes from the old Hale house and a few other things that he’d rather not mention to Derek – the lightening turned out to be stupidly easy once he’d figured out that a Taser would do the trick.

He was sitting on the floor, carefully drawing out the runes that would seal the house to unwanted guests – there was a loophole Stiles had forgotten to mention, it wouldn’t keep _him_ out – and protect the place from fire. When he’d told Derek about the runes he’d brushed it aside, but the idea that his house could never be burnt down around them had sold it. Derek would not lose his pack that way again.

The runes were complicated but after spending the past month or so drawing on Isaac (who wriggled) the even flooring of the Hale house was a cake walk. He was singing loudly along to the random selection of songs he considered magical – the theme from Charmed, the soundtrack to Practical Magic, Black Magic Woman, that kind of thing – when he saw the shadow fall across the floor. Without thinking, he turned and pushed with everything he had, power flying from his hands like a wave of sound. The large body ended up pinned to the wall, before Stiles could make out the black leather jacket and dark jeans.

“Derek!” He called out, as the Alpha slumped to the floor with a grunt. Running over, runes forgotten, he tried to pull Derek up to a sitting position. He was blinking hazily, looking at Stiles with a dazed expression. “Dude! Are you okay?”

“What the hell was that?” Derek gasped, pulling large gulps of air into his lungs.

“You can’t just sneak up on me!” Stiles whined, still trying to pull Derek into a seated position.

“What the hell was that?” He repeated – frustration and anger seeping into his voice.

“Protection.” Stiles said, trying to sound relaxed. He hadn’t expected the runes to work quite so well. He rolled up his sleeves and pointed to the faded biro on his arms. He’d done it at school, bored out of his mind during study break. The notes he’d taken suggested that he’d simply be able to repel attackers – which was pretty sweet – not throw fully grown werewolves across the room with Jedi mind powers.

Derek finally managed to pull himself upright, taking in deep breaths through his nose, anger touched with something else Stiles couldn’t quite figure out. His eyes flashed red. “Protection?” He hissed. “Against me?”

“No, you idiot. Against everything!” Stiles snapped back. “In case you’ve not been paying attention, Stiles is still a fragile human who gets left alone in houses in the middle of nowhere while you get to wolf out. I’m fed up of being left behind. I feel like I don’t belong with you anymore.” And he was furious with himself that his voice broke at the end, because he was mad – not upset.

“You are part of this pack.” Derek said, taking long deep breaths through his nose. Stiles wondered if it was helping him to calm down, because it didn’t seem to be working.

“Really? Because I don’t see you chaperoning everyone else. Stiles needs to be watched all the damn time. Can’t be left alone with Isaac, can’t sit on the floor with my friends, can’t-”

“They try to lick you!” Derek snapped, eyes flashing again. “They constantly try to get closer to you!”

“It doesn’t mean anything!”

“It does to me!” Derek roared.

* * *

 

Stiles rocked back on his heels like he’d been hit – sucker punched right in the gut. Derek was still sitting there, looking like he wanted the earth to open up under him. Stiles wished it would.

“Screw this.” Stiles said, pulling back, standing up. “You are the worst kind of jerk.” He said, stalking back to his forgotten work. He needed to finish the last patch of floor before morning. “You know that, right?” He fumed, picking up his brush. “You know you wind me up like a fucking jack-in-the-box, but you won’t even touch me. You _know_ – you prick, you know I’d let you do _anything_ , and you don’t even _touch_ me.”

“Stiles-” Derek started, but was cut off with a wave of Stiles arm.

“Don’t even try to talk to me right now.” He hissed, focusing on the last patch on bare floor. “I need to get this finished and I _hate_ you right now.”

The silence behind him was deafening as he worked. It took the better part of an hour to painstakingly paint the marks. When the last rune was painted, Stiles saw the blue fire run over the floor like water, up the walls and covering the roof. Knew Derek was freaking out because it was _fire_ , but when it covered Stiles from head to toe, he drew in a ragged breath. It wasn’t real fire – it tingled and kissed Stiles skin for a few seconds before vanishing completely.

“Woohoo!” Stiles yelled, punching the air. “Damn right!” He danced around the floor, forgetting that Derek was there and that he was still pissed off, “And _that_ , my people, is how a fucking _Shaman_ does it!” The floor, which had been covered just moments ago with the browning ‘paint’ and rune markings was completely clear of anything. There was no sign that Stiles had spent the better part of three days covering every inch of the floor with power words. There was no way to undo the spell either – unless another Shaman drew over the markings. This would be additionally difficult as the floor would soon be covered with hardwood boards and carpets, coupled with the fact that Stiles was the only non-wolf who could get into the house without an invite (A fact he’d neglected to mention to anyone else). As far as his spells were concerned, this was _Stiles_ house.

Then Derek was there, patting him down and freaking out. His eyes were bloodshot and panicked, it took him a few seconds to understand what was going on. “Derek!” He said, pushing the wolf away. “It wasn’t fire. Not real fire. Nothing is burning.” He tried again to push the Alpha away, but Derek wasn’t budging as he franticly tried to check Stiles for flames or burns. “Derek.” Stiles said, voice calm and relaxed. “There is nothing wrong. The spell is in place. Nothing is burning, nothing will ever burn in here.” Trying to keep his voice neutral when Derek was literally running his hands over every inch of him was almost impossible. “I’m fine. The house is fine. I’m fine.” He repeated, until Derek finally stopped his frantic breathing and stilled his hands.

“God.” He choked, grabbing Stiles with both hands and pulling him into the tightest embrace he could. “God.” He choked again, and Stiles could feel his frantic heart beating through his chest. He wasn’t sure when Derek finally started to breath normally, when the tightness of his arms relaxed enough that Stiles didn’t have to fight for air. He could feel the hot breath of Derek on his neck, achingly familiar, even if the embrace wasn’t. Then, slowly, Derek moved, his head leaning against Stiles, pushing him back and exposing his neck. Stiles knew what was coming – the touch of Derek’s tongue along the corded tendon of his neck still made him shiver.

_Power. That’s all it was._

Stiles knew the smell that drove the Betas insane was the green waves of power his Shaman blood was throwing off. He’d thought Derek was immune to it, that his Alpha status might have stopped him from acting like the others, but when his hands gripped the back of his neck to hold him in place as he licked and scented, Stiles knew he was just as bad as the others. Maybe worse, because whenever Jackson or Isaac tried it, they weren’t hard. They didn’t involve anything south of the border, where as Derek was rock hard and – _damn_ – grinding into him. It didn’t turn Stiles on, the licking and scenting – he’d been licked and nuzzled within an inch of his life for the past three months. So when Derek snaked a hand between their bodies and covered the fly of Stiles jeans, he didn’t find what he was expecting. He pulled back, confusion written over his face.

“Sorry.” Stiles said, although Derek could obviously tell from the tone of his voice that he wasn’t. “You don’t get to pick me up and play with me anymore.” Derek pulled back like he’d been slapped – which Stiles was very close to doing. “I didn’t mean to frighten you with the fire.” He said, and meant it. “I didn’t know that would happen. But you don’t get to do this to me.” He took a deep breath. “You don’t get to do this and then ignore me.”

“I don’t ignore you.” Derek said, voice wary.

“You kiss me, then you pull away. You try to _kill_ me then you jerk me off and then tell me it won’t happen again. You don’t even let me near you anymore – but you think it’s okay for you to act like this?”

“You let them do it!” Derek snapped, there was no mistaking his jealous tone.

“They don’t think it’s about sex!” Stiles retorted. “Jesus, do you think the pack is getting off on sniffing me?” The look on Derek’s face said quite clearly that, yes, actually, he did. “You are an idiot.”

“I just want to smell you.” Derek said, pulling him close. Stiles hated that he let him, hated that the feel of just being close to Derek made him want to reach out – but the last time he’d tried he’d been given a set down that still stung. He moved his head to the left, allowing Derek access to his bared neck. The wolf took full advantage, Stiles trying to hold on to his anger and hurt as the feel of Derek’s mouth on his throat caused his blood to start throbbing in his veins. The Alpha was letting out little groans of appreciation as he inhaled deeply, rocking into Stiles – who was fighting with himself to remember _why_ he didn’t want this…

Then Derek surged forward, knocking Stiles off balance. He grabbed at the wolf as he felt himself falling, only to be placed gently on the ground, Derek’s body covering his. The wolves hands were everywhere, pulling at his clothes and pinning him down. Stiles couldn’t help the arch of his spine when Derek found that place, just behind his ear that sent a lightning bolt of need through him – and Derek knew it. He twisted Stiles head further to the left as he tried once again to find the sweet spot that had Stiles mewling in appreciation. When he found it, Stiles bucked under him with a gasp, and Derek’s hand slipped around his throat. Stiles froze, remembering the fear and panic of the last time Derek had his hand around his throat.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” The Alpha groaned in his ear. “But you need to stop… moving.” His tongue flicked against the sensitive spot behind Stiles ear and he couldn’t help the grind of his hips into the wolf above him. “Stop moving.” Derek hissed.

“Can’t.” Stiles gasped, straining. His hands were still locked around the Alphas shoulders, fingers starting to cramp with the force of his grip. He moved his legs, trying to find purchase on the smooth floor, and as he moved, he felt Derek’s entire body go still.

“Don’t move.” He hissed again, and Stiles suddenly understood that the wolf was so very nearly _there_ that even the slightest movement would tip him over the edge. So he rocked into him, feeling the scrape of buttons as the fly’s of their jeans slid against each other. Derek let out a shattered breath before he rocked back, managing twice before he gripped Stiles shoulders hard and called out shuddering and bucking. It took a good few minutes before he finally relaxed, collapsing against Stiles and groaning. Stiles lay there, not quite trapped, but unwilling to move. He knew what would happen next – The Alpha would get up, walk away, tell him to forget about it, or act like it didn’t happen. Typical Derek bullshit. Stiles wasn’t going to give him the chance.

“Derek.” He said, voice low. “You need to move.” The wolf lifted his head and stared at him for a few seconds before his brain seemed to catch up. He rolled off Stiles, but didn’t seem to have the strength to stand up, so he just sprawled out on the floor, staring at the high beamed ceiling. “I’m going home, before dad gets back.”

* * *

 


	12. Chapter 12

Derek was running. He was always running, anything to get rid of the feeling of hopelessness. He hadn’t felt like this since he was a teenager, looking at the burnt out shell of a house that he’d once called home – knowing that it was his fault. He hated feeling helpless. Hated feeling unsure, or nervous – and he had been feeling that way for months. Moving in with the Sheriff had been a bad idea, he knew the moment he’d accepted. The older man had treated him like… like a member of the family – hell, he’d even taken to calling him ‘Son’ when he wasn’t really thinking, and Derek missed his dad **_so_** much, he’d just clung to that, like a life raft. But it always came back to one thing – Stiles. The kid was going to kill him, or get him shot, or arrested, or all three – and the last thing he wanted was to disappoint the sheriff who’d welcomed him into his house.

So he spent the nights running – and the days working on the house. Trying to keep the kid out of trouble and out of his way – which was impossible since the pack seemed to think that the Stilinski house was their private meeting place. It annoyed him that his Betas climbed through Stiles window, sat on his bed and just chatted away to him for hours. It killed him that Isaac seemed to think that touching Stiles was perfectly okay. And if the teenage boy came back from School one more time with the heavy scent of his Betas lingering over his pulse points again, Derek was going to rip their tongues out.

The full moon was tomorrow – Derek would have to deal with another week of fall-out after. Because if he hated the smell of his Betas **_on_** Stiles, he despised the scent of him **_in_** Stiles. The blood that he ingested permeated his skin, every time he moved he would smell like Derek, mixed with his own scent – and it lingered for days. He’d missed the last moon because Isaac was ill, but the younger wolf was able to shift now – and so Derek would have to deal with the fact that for about 6 days, Stiles would be walking about smelling like his lover. And Derek **_couldn’t_** touch him. He was only 17 – a fact he all too frequently forgot.

The house was almost finished now, he slowed as he approached the dark shape. The door was open, like he’d left it, and as he walked through the great room he could smell his shame, the smell of his semen and lust, Stiles anger and frustration. The boy had been hurt, angry, confused – and Derek had held him down and taken what he wanted – what he **_needed_**.

It was worse, worse than anything, because the only heavy scent of sex in the air belonged to Derek. Because Stiles magic ran through the whole house, unless someone had spent their whole life seeing smells, they wouldn’t have even known that Stiles had been there with him. Which made him feel worse, because at least before, Stiles had gotten off as much as he had.

He walked up the dark stairs to the bedroom he’d designed – huge and open. The glass walls would let in so much light, and as he stood in the middle of the empty space, he felt as though he were standing in the forest. Although privacy wasn’t a concern to wolves, the contractor had put one way glass instead of the regular glaze Derek had suggested. From the outside it looked like mirrors, reflecting back the trees. The upper part of the house looked almost invisible during the day – only at night did you really see the size. Isaac’s rooms were on the other side of the house. Far enough away that he wouldn’t have to listen to the marathon sex that Isaac and Reever were no doubt having.

He’d put extra rooms in, Boyd and Erica would be downstairs – and a few guest rooms between his and Isaacs. The kitchen was his pride and joy. He loved everything about the house, but the smell… the smell was killing him. When Stiles had told him that runes would stop the place from ever burning, he’d leapt at the chance, not aware that Stiles magic would permeate the house with the smell of Stiles. It was like he was in the walls, the floor, everywhere. Derek was never going to be able to sleep in this place – he was already hard. He tried not to think of the guest room that joined his via the bathroom, tried not to think that he’d put that connecting door there because he’d wanted Stiles to have that other room. He needed to get that boy out of his life – and soon – before he did something stupid and ended up getting shot by the kids dad.

* * *

 

“Hi, Son.” The Sheriff said as Derek walked past the kitchen. He popped his head around the door to see the older man sitting looking at a table of photographs and notes.

“Evening, sir.” He smiled. He smelled like Stiles, but mellow – relaxed, tinged with a calming silver streak. He felt more relaxed just being in his presence.

“How’s that monster of a house coming along?”

“Good – almost done now – a couple of days till the plumbing and electricity get hooked up – and the flooring goes down tomorrow.” Derek said, sitting down on one of the kitchen chairs. “A week or two and I’ll be out of your hair for good.”

“You know there isn’t any rush for you to be gone from here, son.” The Sheriff smiled softly. “You can always stay until you’re ready.”

“Yes sir.” Derek said, trying not to let it show just how much those words meant to him. “Thank you, sir.”

* * *

 

Derek was half asleep when he heard the window of Stiles bedroom open and Isaac climbed though. It wasn’t the first time the teenage boy had done it, but Derek had made it pretty fucking clear he wasn’t allowed.

“Is Derek here?” He heard Isaac whisper – as though Derek wouldn’t be able to hear.

“He’s still at the big house.” Stiles mumbled, it was pretty difficult to make out what he was saying. He heard the yawn though.

“Do you mind?”

“No.” Stiles mumbled, and Derek could hear the movement of covers and the soft thud of Isaacs clothes as the boy climbed into bed with Stiles. Derek threw back his own covers and stood up, anger taking hold of him. “S’not nice to be lonely.” He heard Stiles mumble, which had the effect of freezing him in place.

“I just don’t like sleeping alone.” Isaac whispered. “And Derek would kill me.”

“He’s not that bad.”

“Well he doesn’t even let **_you_** sleep with him.” Isaac muttered. “and he loves you. Can’t see him happy for me to climb in.”

Derek rocked on his feet, standing in the middle of his room like he’d been shot with wolfs bane. “He’s a jerk” Stiles said, sound muffled by the pillow he was no doubt face down on. “Jus go t’sleep.”

* * *

 

Derek stood in the small kitchen and watched as the edges of the bacon sizzled and spit before turning a crispy golden brown. He hadn’t slept, couldn’t sleep when he was too busy listening for… anything… in the other room. Isaac had left a few hours before, almost silently, even for Dereks advanced hearing. Isaac was wrong. Derek didn’t love Stiles – he just… just **_wanted_** him – which was perfectly okay. That was just sex and hormones and that damn smell that was driving him insane. He didn’t even like pears, but he sure as hell was eating a lot of them now.

The mug of tea on the counter was cooling – the herbs infusing with the water. It smelled disgusting to his wolfs noes, but Stiles seemed not to notice.

He put the bacon on the paper towel and grabbed the eggs that were keeping warm in the oven, before plating up. He was half way up the stairs when he noticed the ‘smiley face’ pattern he’d arranged it in, quickly using his fingers to move the bacon. He didn’t want Stiles to think… anything.

Months of habit, of knowing what Stiles would do and when, meant that Derek had enough time to tidy the bed and pick out some clothes for him while Stiles was still in the shower. He hated that the room stunk of Isaac, but there was nothing he could do about it. Once the house was finished, Reever would be living there and Isaac wouldn’t feel the need to climb through **_this_ ** window in the middle of the night.

His hand hovered over the grey t-shirt that had once belonged to him, but that Stiles had never really gotten around to giving back. It was heavy with the green scent that made Derek forget, just for a moment, that Stiles was only 17 years old and far too young for him. He pulled the red plaid shirt and hoodie out – and at the last moment, grabbed the grey t-shirt. It was his, and Stiles shouldn’t have it – it would only lead to questions if his dad saw it.

He managed to convince himself of that even as he stood in his room and pulled the shirt he was wearing off, and pulled the repossessed grey tee over his head, breathing deeply – filling his senses with the boy he couldn’t have.

* * *

 

Full moon and a Lacrosse game – never a good mix. Derek hated the matches. Hated that his Betas got pushed and shoved and knocked around. Every blow felt like a punch in his gut – he had to stop himself from leaping over the stands and shoving back. The need to protect his pack was so strong.

Then there was Stiles, who somehow managed to get himself into every altercation. Derek hated Lacrosse – hated everything about it. He wondered if there would be a mass mutiny if he’d told them they were no longer allowed to play. The only ones in his pack not on the team were Erica and Reever. He decided against it.

“Stiles tells me you’re going out for dinner?” The sheriff said beside him, cold air puffing around his head. Derek blanched – did the sheriff suspect that Derek was interested in his son?

“With Isaac.” He said, hating the panic in his voice.

“Do you know what time you’ll be back?”

“Ah, no. Does Stiles have a curfew?” He wondered why he’d not known if he did.

“He’s 17, not 7.” The sheriff laughed, “I don’t think he’d appreciate being told to be home by 9 on a Friday night, especially if he was out with his friends. Just… just make sure they don’t do anything stupid. No alcohol.”

“You have my word.”

* * *

 

Stiles was drunk. Derek had forgotten that it was one of the side effects of the blood. Giggly and touchy – a drunk Stiles was more that he knew how to cope with. Because the sheriff was at home, he couldn’t drop him off in bed like he’d done previously or the older man would think that Derek had lied about the alcohol.

The Betas were lying on the floor of the Hale house, it was dark without the electricity, but as they were all werewolves (or affected by werewolf blood) it seemed as bright as day. Derek watched them crawl all over each other like a bunch of puppies – it was a term he hated, but damn if it didn’t describe them well.

He wanted to join them, wanted to sit on the floor and be part of that group – but he couldn’t. He was the Alpha, the one in charge – and God only knows what they would do. Isaac was talking about the College he planned to go to, his hopes of being a vet.

“I’m going to UNO.” Stiles said, leaning back against Scott, who was chatting to Boyd about some test they both flunked.

“What?” Derek said, cutting over the chatter. Every head turned to him, including Stiles, who blinked at him with bloodshot eyes. “What did you say?”

“Me?” Stiles asked, voice slightly slurred. When Derek nodded he shrugged lazily. “I’m going to UNO. I got a letter from them accepting me.” He paused. “I spoke to Talon, he said my coursework’ll be supplemented by training from the squires and Daniel Runningwolf. I’m gonna be a Shaman.” He finished, grinning. **_Grinning_**. Like Derek's world hadn’t just crashed around his ears. Stiles was leaving.

“But thats... That’s miles away.” Isaac said, and Derek was glad he wasn’t the only one not thrilled that Stiles was leaving him. Leaving town. Him. Both. “Like... too far to come home at weekends.”

“How will you live?” Scott said, sitting up. “You don’t know anyone down there!”

“Oh, I’ve got a job waiting for me at Sanctuary if I want or Talon said the squires own a newspaper I could intern at.” Stiles said, and Derek was fighting the urge to roar in frustration. These people were trying to take Stiles from him. Them. The pack. “I’ve not told my dad yet, but you know... its such a good university – you just know he’ll be thrilled.” He must have noticed Isaacs face, which was looking a little like someone had just kicked him. “It’ll only be for a few years.”

**_A few years?!_ **

“A few years?” Isaac groaned. “What about... like... if I get sick again? You can’t leave!” he looked at Derek, all curly blond hair and blue eyes. “Tell him he can’t leave.”

“It’s his life.” Derek ground out with a shrug, desperate to mask the hurt and anger he was feeling. “He’s not in the pack.” Which he regretted the moment he’d said it because Stiles, who had been drunk and giggly, now looked hurt and really pissed off. Derek never did **_anything_** right when it came to Stiles.

* * *

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

Stiles was leaving. Derek sat on the end of his bed in the Stilinski spare bedroom and wasn’t sure what he was feeling. New Orleans was too far away – much further than he’d expected. He assumed that Stiles would just… stay – or join Isaac – not end up on the other side of the country. He ran his hands through his short hair and groaned.

He’d just built his house, was setting down some serious roots – adopting Isaac and trying to become more involved with his pack. He couldn’t move everyone to New Orleans, but he couldn’t leave his pack alone either. He didn’t know what to do.

Stiles wasn’t talking to him at all – Dereks knack for saying exactly the wrong thing had driven yet another wedge between them, and he didn’t know how to fix it. He’d meant to say something like, ‘Stiles can make his own decisions’ or ‘He’s not tied to this place like we are’ but what had come out was so perfectly wrong that he couldn’t have tried to make it worse if he’d sat down with a pen and paper.

Stiles was pack. Everyone knew it – he was as much a part of the pack as Isaac or Scott, even more important than them because he was **_Stiles_**.

He was banging around in the room next door – tripping over the crap that was always cluttering his space. Derek hadn’t been in his room since the full moon, trying to avoid the smell of his blood running through Stiles system. The only other way Stiles would be able to smell like that was if Derek had, if they had… his mind blanked at the thought. Stiles was 17 years old. He needed to remember that.

* * *

 

It was 7am when he rolled out of bed and padded to the bathroom along the hall. A handy knack of waking up on time was something he’d inherited from his father. A quick shower later he felt much more ready to face the day.  He pulled on his jeans and the same grey tee he’d taken back from Stiles. The smell was fading fast, replaced by his own familiar scent. Soon every smell of Stiles might fade away to nothing, when he left to go to University. Even the thought of not having that lingering smell of pears around him was enough to have his fists clenching.

He walked through to Stiles room, opening the door gently. The boy was spread out like a baby, arms and legs all over the place, half under and half over the covers. No Isaac that night, he’d taken Reever back to her house and would stay the weekend. Derek had Stiles all to himself.

He closed the door with a click, walking around picking up the clothes and books that lay around. He hated that Stiles was so messy – had to remind himself that it wasn’t just a little endearing.

“S’clean.” Stiles  mumbled as Derek grabbed the red flash t-shirt from the pile on the floor. His head snapped around, he wasn’t expecting Stiles to be awake.

“If it’s clean, why is it on the floor?” Derek asked. “You wore this on Tuesday. It’s not clean.” He hated that he’d slipped up, remembering what Stiles wore and when.

“S’clean.” Stiles said. “Ish.”

“Clean-ish isn’t the same as clean.” Derek said, not sure if he should continue tidying now that Stiles was awake.

“S’near enough.” The teenager said, snuggling deeper into his blankets. “S’my favourite.”

Derek looked at the t-shirt in his hand. He’d bought this for Stiles, months ago. He remembered – it was the first thing he’d ever bought with the money from the fire. Something for Stiles. He’d bought a whole load of clothes for himself just to cover up the fact that he wanted to buy Stiles something. This shirt was his favourite – the one Derek bought him.

“Are you coming to the store?” He asked, relaxing his grip, worried he’d ruin the fabric.

“Still mad.” Was the reply from somewhere in the bed. Derek sighed. He didn’t really have a lot of options. Bribery was one of them.

“I’ll make pancakes.”

“Deal.”

* * *

 

Derek loved the store. Loved everything about it, especially first thing in the morning when there were no people around to mess with his sense of smell. Stiles was trailing behind him, and Derek wondered if the sleepy sales girl at the checkout thought they were a couple. Probably not, she couldn’t smell Derek running through the sleepy teenagers blood. He wondered how strange it would be to see the world like Stiles, not knowing really who belonged to who unless they told you. Not that Stiles belonged to him… He just… smelled like he did. It wasn’t the same.

He’d given Stiles one of his t-shirts and had casually handed the teenager his leather jacket as they left the house, praying that he wouldn’t say anything. He loved seeing the boy in his clothes, trying not to think of the rather obvious claiming sign it was. The rest of the pack wisely shut their mouths when they noticed how a few stray shirts had made it into Stiles wardrobe, or how he sometimes wore Dereks jacket to school. Derek wasn’t marking his territory – it was just… the boy got through so many clothes and sometimes the laundry got mixed up. If anyone asked, that’s what Derek would say. No one had asked – but if they did… he had a reason.

“Can you get some rock salt?” Stiles said, yawning. “I need it for casting.”

“Any particular kind?”

“Yeah. The rock kind.” He paused. “I need to drive out to the city today – I’ve run out of comfrey, and I’m totally out of half my stock after the house and Isaac. S’costing me a fortune.”

“We can go after we take this stuff back.” Derek said, hoping that Stiles wouldn’t notice the fact he’d just invited himself along.

“Sure.” He yawned. “But I’m still mad.”

“Okay.”

* * *

 

Stiles fell asleep in the car on the drive out to the city. Derek turned down the volume of the music to a low hum and took his foot off the gas, content to just let the miles roll past rather than his usual pace. Beacon Hills wasn’t large, and the road in and out passed through the dense woods he’d built his home in. He didn’t want to leave. He didn’t want Stiles to leave.

“We there yet?” Stiles asked, snuggling deeper into the passenger side seat.

“No.” Derek said, and before he could think better of it, pulled the car to the side of the road, gently touching the break. “I want to talk to you.”

“Derek – I don’t really want to talk to **_you_**.” Stiles said, pulling back from him and deeper into the seat. “Can you just drive into town and get this over with?”

Derek gripped the steering wheel tightly. He wanted to just do as Stiles asked, but… he knew he’d said the wrong thing. Done the wrong things.

“I didn’t mean you weren’t pack.” He said. Keeping his voice even was difficult. “I just meant… you don’t have to stay here… with me – us – forever.” He paused, not looking at Stiles. “You aren’t a ‘were and I’m not your Alpha… Isaac was wrong to ask you to stay. To ask me to stop you.”

Stiles was looking at him – but he didn’t turn to face him – just kept his eyes fixed on a spot on the windscreen. “I’m sorry.” He said, aware that his voice was rough and didn’t sound at all sorry. “About what happened at the house,” He clarified. “It won’t happe-”

“Happen again.” Stiles finished. “Like how last time it wasn’t going to happen again, and the time before that.” The teenager looked out of the passenger side window. “You keep doing the same things and saying the same things and expect me to keep believing you.” He sighed heavily, and Derek felt like a total jerk. Stiles was right. “I don’t mind if you want to make out.” He said, and Derek stopped breathing. This wasn’t the conversation he wanted to be having. “But I do mind if you treat me like shit after.”

* * *

 

Derek had just started the car and drove on. He hadn’t even replied, couldn’t even reply because he was in **_hell_**. It had been hard being near Stiles when the kid was pissed off and hurt – but it didn’t compare at all to the feeling of sitting by the teenager who’d just told him he wouldn’t mind if they made out. He was out of his depth, drowning and flailing. Did he want to make out with Stiles? He wanted to do a hell of a lot more than **_make out_** with him… but he was 17 – jail bait – and his dad **_ran the jail_**. His dad, who had brought Derek into his house, trusted him with his son and reminded him so much of his own dad… Derek couldn’t repay him by messing about with his boy. His son, who up until a few months ago was madly in love with a **_girl_** – and not a 24 year old guy.

So as he trailed after Stiles, who looked so damn good in his jacket, he tried really hard to think of all the people he’d be letting down if he took Stiles up on his offer. The Sheriff. Laura – God, Laura would kill him for even thinking about it. His pack – it would be impossible to deal with Isaac and Scott if he was sleeping with their best friend.

He tried to ignore the voice in the back of his head that Isaac already knew and Scott probably suspected as much – and that Laura really would have adored Stiles. The teenage boy was a no-go area. Even when he looked over his shoulder and smiled with that mouth that Derek had imagined doing some really wonderful things. Especially when the boy wrapped his hand around Dereks arm and pulled him into the side street, smelling like leather and Stiles, pears and above all – Derek. It was a really narrow street. He could easily brush against him if he wasn’t paying attention. The instant he thought it, he became hyper aware of just how small the street was – how far away from the main part of the city – how Stiles had come here alone.

“You shouldn’t come here by yourself.” He said, putting his hand on Stiles shoulder and stopping him from going further. “It’s not safe.” Stiles didn’t say anything, just shrugged. Derek would have given anything to be able to know what was going on in his head.

Stiles walked on, and Derek let his hand drop from the boys shoulder reluctantly. He couldn’t give this boy an order and expect him to follow it – Stiles wasn’t his Beta.

The place Stiles ended up didn’t look like any shop Derek had ever seen. It was more like someone’s living room with a counter in it. The smell made him feel nauseous – a million pungent scents and conflicting colours flew around him. As soon as he walked through the door, he swayed on his feet – dangerously close to passing out.

“He can’t come in here.” The man at the counter said. “Bad for him.”

“Just wait outside.” Stiles said, giving him a little shove back into the street. “I’ll not be long.”

* * *

 

‘Not long’ turned out to be a gross understatement. Derek stood in the side street for a good 2 hours before Stiles appeared again, loaded with bags.

“Just how much did you spend?” Derek said, grabbing a few of the larger bags.

“About a grand.” Stiles grimaced. Derek just stared.

“What the hell kind of herb is worth that amount of money?”

“Well… the Grey Rain seedlings are $50 a pop, and I needed 4 for Isaac this month.” He shrugged. “It adds up.”

“Stiles, you can’t afford to keep buying this stuff.” Derek said.

“I need it. Anyway, this should keep me going for another couple of months.” Derek frowned. Stiles might have had enough money to ensure that he could go to what college he wanted, but that money was sure to run out if he kept spending thousands on herbs and magic supplies. He didn’t even see the point in offering to pay – neither him or his dad were open to Derek offering money. He’d have to think of another way to ensure Stiles didn’t end up spending his last cent on this stuff.

“Hungry?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

* * *

 

The restaurant was nice – too nice, really, for them, but it was near the car and Derek was aware that it was almost 2pm and Stiles hadn’t had anything to eat yet. He needed to learn to take better care of the kid. The looks they got from the power dressers was slightly disdainful, but Derek didn’t care.

“Steak, blue.” Derek said, not even looking at the menu.

“Same.” Stiles said, and Derek gave him a questioning look when the waiter left.

“You never eat steak.” He commented, “And you said that the idea of uncooked meat made you gag.”

“Well, in case you might have forgotten, I’m coming down off a wolfy high, and right now it sounds like the most amazing thing in the world.” Stiles looked around. “You know, this place is nice. Classy.” He snorted. “Totally not us.”

Derek tried to hide his smile, but he could tell by the way Stiles grinned at him that it wasn’t successful. He had a way of grinning that made Derek forget that he was trying to hold himself back. “You notice they didn’t offer us the wine list?”

“Neither of us can drink – your under 21 and I’m driving.”

“Still.” Stiles grinned, kicking him under the table. “It would have been nice to have been asked. I’ve never been in a place like this before.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, my dad sometimes takes me out for a burger or whatever, but its not like this. It’s really nice. I kinda feel like I should be dressed nicer though – do you think they care about stuff like that here?” Stiles paused for breath, and Derek was reminded just how much he enjoyed the rambling flow of conversation. He could just sit and listen. “I think if I had a place like this I’d care if just random people were to come in off the street dressed like us. I think they’ll probly be thinking something like ‘They can’t afford this’ cause they don’t know you’re like a squillionaire.”

Derek shrugged. There was no point in joining in, he never knew what to say – and everything he ended up saying was wrong, or stupid – or both. “Dude, if I had your money I wouldn’t be living in Beacon Hills.”

“Everything I want is there.” Derek said, nodding as the waiter brought the steaks over.

“God, those look amazing. I swear to God, I might need two.”

* * *

 

On the drive home, Stiles talked non-stop about school and tests and lacrosse. Derek took the longer route back to the sheriffs – and neither of them mentioned Stiles leaving for college.

Derek had the best day.

 

 


	14. Chapter 14

The buzz of his phone caught his attention as he walked to class. He thought about ignoring it – his head was thumping, he felt woozy and nauseous. Sliding his finger over the screen, he saw it was from Derek. ‘You Feeling Okay? ’ the text read.

“No. head killin me. How u no?” He managed to text back. He really didn’t think he was going to be able to manage through his next class. His phone buzzed almost instantly.

“You Forgot To Drink The Tea. Bringing It To You. 10 Minutes. CarPark.”

Stiles walked through the crowds – everyone seemed to be getting in his way this morning – and did they really need to be so damn loud? He managed to get to the car park at the back of the school around the same time the black Camaro pulled up. He’d never been so pleased to see a thermos in his life. Derek climbed out of the driver’s seat and slammed the door behind him – holding out the grey thermos that his dad sometimes used. He grabbed it with both hands and swayed slightly, so close to passing out.

“Is this stuff addictive?” Derek said, looking at him strangely.

“No. This is what I’m like if I miss my medication. I think as long as I’m drinking it, my body hasn’t noticed I’m not taking my ADD meds.” Stiles opened the thermos with shaking hands and (despite knowing how much it pissed Derek off) scooted onto the hood of the black muscle car. He was sitting there, cross legged and sipping directly from the thermos, when Derek leaned back against the hood of the car beside him.

“The flooring is going in.” He said, looking out at the school building. “Looks good so far.”

“Picked colours yet?” Stiles asked, watching as the tea took effect and the red marbling flowed over his hands. He had missed talking to Derek. The last couple of months had been difficult. They seemed to have fallen back into their old routine after spending the day in the city.

“I took Reevers advice and hired someone to do it. I think she was worried that I’d end up painting the whole place black.”

Stiles laughed, the first time all day – he was already feeling better. “Or grey.” He grinned, taking another sip. The tea was almost gone, but he really didn’t want to walk in to Chemistry at all, never mind late. He hated his teacher – which was cool because his teacher hated him. “There are other colours in the spectrum, you know. It’s not just greyscale.”

“I don’t doubt you’d have the place looking like the inside of a rainbow.” Derek grimaced. Stiles leaned forward and punched him on the shoulder, grinning.

“I’ll have you know, people like my bright and careless attitude to colour.” He laughed. “Aside from Erica, who said I give her a migraine when I get to pick my own clothes.”

“I’d rather my house didn’t give people headaches.”

“Please.” Stiles managed to look offended. “You wound me!” Derek shot him a disbelieving look over his shoulder that had the effect of creasing Stiles with laughter.

“You’re going to be late for class.” Derek said, but made no motion to move.

“I’m already late for class. I’m not going.” Stiles said, pretending to take another sip. The tea was gone. “Missing one class isn’t going to kill me, and Isaac knew I was feeling like shit anyway, so he’ll cover for me.”

“Well, you can’t stay here.” Derek said. “All it takes is for one teacher to look out the window and you are busted.”

“If I go down, I’m taking you with me.” Stiles retorted. “All I need to say is…’This dude who looks like a drug dealer was bringing me my magic tea’ and I’m sure they’d just totally believe me.”

“Stilinski!” The call from across the parked cars was enough to make Stiles wince. He looked over to see his Lacrosse coach walking towards them.

“Oh hell.” Stiles managed, before the teacher was there, yelling.

“I’m Derek Hale.” Derek said, leaning forward and offering his hand. “The Sheriff sent me.” This had the effect of silencing coach.

“Is there a problem?”

“Stiles is on new medication – he forgot to take it this morning and the Sheriff asked me if I would bring it to him and make sure he didn’t throw it back up.” Derek shot the teacher a long suffering look. “He tends to make everything more difficult.”

“You don’t need to tell me.” The coach said, frowning. “Is this going to stop him from playing? He’s one of my best guys.”

Stiles tried to mask the rush of happiness that those words gave him and focused on looking pale and ill. “He’ll be fine in about half an hour.” Derek said. “I should have called ahead, but you know what it’s like.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Coach said, nodding. He looked at Stiles and glared. “Half an hour, Stilinski – then back to class.” He stalked away after giving Derek a sharp nod. When he was out of earshot, Stiles let out a long breath.

“Dude, you literally just saved my life.”

“I do that a lot.” Derek said, leaning back against the hood of the car. Stiles stared at him before snorting through his nose.

“I think you’ll find that I’m the one that ends up saving you half the time.”

“Name once.”

“I treaded water for 4 hours with your grumpy ass bitching at me the whole time!” Stiles said.

“You let me go!”

“For like 5 seconds.” Stiles laughed. “And you never once said thank you, I might add.”

“I bought you dinner yesterday.” Derek said, grumpily, which made Stiles laugh. He really did like Derek when he was like this.

* * *

  
 

“This is stupid.” Derek was saying, as he pulled his car into the parking lot. “We should be training.” Stiles was sitting in the front passenger seat, with Scott, Isaac, Erica and Boyd squeezed in the back.

“This is the movie of the year.” Stiles was saying. “We can’t miss it.”

“Another Superhero film?”

“Look, Jackson and Lydia are already here!” Isaac said, trying to climb over Scott to get out the door first. Reever was spending the night with her family – her father had returned home from working overseas. Stiles got the feeling he wasn’t home very often.

Derek paid for everyone, and even forked out on the extortionate price for the popcorn and drinks. They looked like the most attractive scoobie gang ever. Alison was already inside waiting for them.

“She told her dad she was going to the movies with Lydia,” Scott whispered to Stiles. “It’s not **_really_** a lie, right?”

They filled out the back row totally, Erica and Boyd at the aisle and Stiles at the other. Derek, who had his arms across the back of the seats, stretched his legs out and sighed. “I really don’t like cinemas.”

Isaac looked over the Alphas body and threw Stiles a glance that quite clearly said he thought Derek was an alien – which caused Derek to move his arm from the back of Isaacs chair and gently smack him on the back of the head.

Stiles had finished his popcorn before the adverts had finished, so leaned forward and started eating Derek’s. He hadn’t touched his at all, so Stiles didn’t feel too bad.

With the lights off and the warm body of Derek a few inches away, Stiles was more comfortable and content than he had been in months.

About half way through the film, Stiles rubbed his eyes – he was still affected by the blood and the bright screen was starting to give him a headache. Derek, whose arm had been resting along the back his Stiles chair, moved his hand and gently rubbed the back of Stiles head. It looked like an unthinking gesture, like saying ‘bless you’ when someone sneezed, but Stiles knew that Derek very rarely did anything without thinking it through. He leaned back into Derek’s hand, feeling stupidly pleased that the Alpha didn’t move away.

They watched the rest of the movie with Derek’s hand on the back of Stiles neck, the pad of his thumb resting on the sensitive spot behind his ear. He could have stayed like that for the rest of his life.

* * *

 

Alison’s dad picked her up after the film, so she left with Lydia waving her off from the sidewalk while everyone else stayed inside, trying not to be seen. The drive home was loud, everyone having an opinion on the film and what it would mean for the rest of the franchise. Only Derek didn’t have an opinion.

Stiles and Derek were the last ones home, after dropping everyone off. Stiles wanted to talk about the whole… touchy… thing – but wasn’t sure how to bring it up casually. The house was in darkness, his dad obviously working late. It was too early to go to bed, but too late to really do anything, so he walked into the living room and turned on the TV. He didn’t see the point of putting the lights on, as both he and Derek could see well enough without them, and the light from the TV was plenty bright enough. He was settled on the floor flipping through the channels when Derek came through with two pint glasses of Coke and Dr Pepper. Stiles was expecting the Alpha to sit on the sofa, but he put the glasses on the small coffee table and pulled a cushion down beside Stiles.

Stiles wasn’t sure what to think. Derek was acting as though this was perfectly normal, and Stiles was happy to go along with it, but it had been months since the Alpha had voluntarily been this close to him. Stiles wasn’t aware of how much he’d missed it.

Stiles couldn’t find anything he wanted to watch, so he flipped back to some cheesy made for TV Hallmark movie that he thought Derek might complain about, but the Alpha seemed pretty okay to sit on the floor and watch some really bad acting. Stiles pushed his luck, leaning against Derek’s arm and expecting the wolf to pull back. He did, but not like Stiles thought. He leaned back, freeing his arm from Stiles weight and then, as though he’d done it a million times before, put his arm around Stiles shoulders, letting him lean right into him.

They watched the whole movie like that, Stiles pressed in close to Derek – he didn’t want to move even to reach forward for his drink, so the two glasses remained untouched on the table. When the credits rolled, Stiles was half asleep, lulled by the beat of Derek’s heart and the steadying motion of his breathing. He didn’t want to move.

“Come on,” Derek said, giving his shoulder a little shake. “Bed.”

“I’m not moving.” Stiles muttered, trying to get closer into the wolf. “I’m too comfortable.”

“You’ve got school tomorrow.” Derek said, using his upper body to push Stiles upright. “Bed.”

* * *

 

Stiles sat on the edge of his bed and watched as Derek wandered about the room. Stiles was only wearing a thin pair of cotton bottoms (bright yellow with awesome batman symbols on them). He’d already brushed his teeth and felt a little strange sitting there as Derek... fussed.

There was no other word for it. The room was clean – there were no clothes on the floor or books laying around, but the wolf walked back and forth, moving random items. It was like he was working himself up to something, which couldn’t right, because Derek never really over-thought his words. He’d displayed some serious lack of foresight before, mostly with Stiles.

“Derek, you are giving me a headache.” Stiles said, as the wolf restacked the pile of comics on the dresser for the 3rd time. He stopped, looking at Stiles for a moment before nodding. Downstairs, Stiles hear his dads key in the lock.

“Night.” Derek said, shutting the door behind him with a soft click, leaving Stiles wondering what the hell was going on with his wolf.

* * *

 

Stiles was woken up a few hours later by the opening of his bedroom door. Wolf senses were one of the perks of the blood drinking and they lasted at least a week after. Although his sense of smell was always the first to go, the hearing lasted longer.

“Are you awake?” Derek whispered. When Stiles nodded, Derek came closer – but stopped before reaching the foot of the bed. Suddenly, Stiles knew what Derek wanted.

“You can come in.” Stiles sighed, pulling the covers back and scooting to the left. “But no shoes or jeans. They chafe.” Derek didn’t move right away, just stood in the middle of the floor and swayed slightly. “I’m not kidding, they do chafe.” Stiles said, voice radiating honesty. Derek stood for a few seconds before fumbling with the buttons of his fly. Stiles was secretly hoping that the wolf went commando – but the tight black boxers under were almost as good. He was still in his grey t-shirt. He stepped closer to the bed slowly, as though he was unsure – then carefully climbed in beside Stiles. The first thing Stiles noticed was that the larger body of Derek Hale was much, much different than Isaac. Isaac didn’t smell half as good, nor feel quite so warm to the touch. Stiles resisted the urge to wrap his arms around the Alpha by turning on his side and facing in the other direction. Derek turned with him, so that the wolf was almost spooning him, a few inches never felt like so far before. Stiles closed his eyes and tried to get back to sleep.

It didn’t take Derek long to creep forward, Stiles was just starting to relax when he felt the bed shift and Derek was suddenly pressed right up against his back. The Alpha’s arm slipped around his waist, hooked so that the flat of Derek’s palm was pressing over Stiles heart. There would be no way to hide the frantic beating of his heart now. Derek leaned closer still, and gently nuzzled into the back of Stiles neck. Great. Stiles thought. More scenting.

It was different, though – in the dark, in **_bed_** – with Derek. Stiles moved his head slightly, giving the wolf better access to the line of his neck. The deep sigh of approval made Stiles smile, even though he wasn’t too sure if he should be happy that Derek was once again doing this. The Alpha was once again hard, those boxers didn’t leave **_anything_** to Stiles imagination, but he wasn’t trying to get off as far as Stiles could tell. He just seemed happy enough to scent him.

The feel of Derek wrapped around his body though, was playing hell with Stiles. He was hard because of the scenting, something he hadn’t been since Isaac and Jackson grabbed him in the locker room showers and pinned him to the wall (had had no clue what they were going to do and hell, Stiles was only human!) – it was a matter of personal pride that even Erica murmuring in his ear didn’t so much as make him twitch any more, but when Derek did it…

The Alphas tongue brushed against that spot Stiles really hoped no one else found, right behind his ear – he let out a quiet moan, unable to stop himself. Derek stilled for a moment, before repeating the action, causing yet another moan from Stiles.

“Are you okay?” Derek murmured in his ear, before flicking his tongue again.

“Yes.” Stiles managed, voice slightly more husky than he would have liked.

“I mean…” Derek rocked his hips slightly, pressing his massive erection into the base of Stiles back. “Are you **_okay_**?”

“If you are asking if I’m getting off on this,” Stiles whispered. “ ** _Yes_**. Yes I am.” He felt Derek nod, before his mouth once again found Stiles personal sweet spot on his neck. The hand on his chest was solid, unmoving, keeping him held in place while Derek continued to lick and nuzzle.

After a while though, Stiles was unable to stay still. His skin was burning; the heat from Derek was unbearable. Derek seemed to sense that something was bothering him, because he moved his hand from over Stiles heart. He trailed his hand down Stiles body, stopping on his hip.

“Are you okay?” He asked again, and Stiles knew he wasn’t making up the tension in Derek's voice. The guy sounded like he was near enough to break.

“You’re actually killing me.” Stiles whimpered, turning his head so he could see the Alpha. “To death.” He added just to make sure Derek knew what he was doing.

“You said it would be okay.” Derek said, a question in his voice. “Are you not... okay?”

“When did I say that?”

“In the car. You said it would be okay if... you know...” Derek's voice trailed off.

“We made out! This is not making out. This is you killing me!” Derek grinned at that, and god, his smile was perfect. Stiles couldn’t help but smile back. There was a noise outside, and both of them looked to the bedroom door – it would not be cool for his dad to find Derek Hale in his bed. No matter how cool he could be about some stuff, Stiles was pretty sure he’d have something to say about underage sex.

Because they were both focused on the door, it took a few seconds before Stiles remembered that his usual sleeping partner wasn’t Derek Hale. Isaac was trying to open the window.

Stiles slid out of bed before he could think better of it and pushed the window up. “Dude.” Stiles said, “This is not a good time.”

Isaac frowned at him, then glanced down at the tent in Stiles batman sleeping pants. “You can finish in the bathroom.” The teenager said. “I don’t mi-” He stopped mid word – obviously just becoming aware of Derek, who was still in the bed, and glaring. “Oh.”

Stiles tried not to laugh at the expression on Isaacs face. “I don’t think all three of us are going to fit in my bed.” He shrugged. Hell, Isaac obviously knew what was going on. There wasn’t really any way to hide it.

Derek snapped. “Isaac, youre not supposed to be here.”

“Knock it off, sourwolf.” Stiles said. “He’s been here a lot longer than you have.” He glared, although he knew Derek could see the smile on his face. “Okay.” He said, walking over to his closet and pulling out some blankets and laying them on the floor. “Derek, bring the pillows and the blankets,” He yawned. “We’re sleeping on the floor.”

Turned out, having Isaac on one side and Derek on the other, made falling asleep stupidly easy. Stiles cuddled up between them and was soon sound asleep.

 

 


	15. Chapter 15

Stiles woke up on the floor for the 4th time that week. Angling his head so he could see the alarm clock on his table, he saw it was only 3am. Derek was there, although after Isaac’s interruption he’d made sure he wore a little more than his boxers – a vest and a thin grey pair of bottoms now – but the main difference was the mass of people. Erica and Boyd had shown up on the second night about a half hour after Isaac – and Scott the next night. Jackson had arrived too – after being seriously pissed when he found out that there was a pyjama party he wasn’t invited to.

Derek had actually been pretty okay with it, not really complaining about the new arrangement, and Stiles was pretty happy with the newer side of Derek he was seeing. The one that wasn’t trying to pull away all the time. He’d made out with Stiles, and hadn’t treated him like shit afterwards - things were great.

Stiles rolled over, causing Isaac to mutter a sleepy complaint, and snuggled deeper into Derek. Things were _**great**_.

* * *

 

Things were **_not_** great. Stiles snapped open his eyes and saw his dad standing at the door of his room, looking at the sleeping group – eyes focused on him. Who was half naked and wrapped around Derek. He didn’t say anything, just stood in the door frame and stared. Stiles looked at him, trying not to panic. They weren’t doing anything. It wasn’t like he’d walked in on them having sex or something… but Stiles knew that it didn’t look great. They all looked much too familiar with each other’s bodies, and he had no way of describing the whole ‘pack’ mentality without telling his dad about things he was much safer not knowing about. His father stood for a few more seconds before closing the door behind him with a click.

This was going to be awkward.

* * *

 

“I think you should leave.” His dad said, when Derek and Stiles walked down stairs. He’d woken everyone up and told them what had happened. If his dad wondered where everyone else had gone, he didn’t say anything. They’d bailed through the window, throwing apologetic looks over their shoulders as they silently dropped to the grass under his window. His dad was sitting at the table, expression unreadable – a cup of coffee in his hands.

“Yes, sir.” Derek said, voice calm and collected. As though he knew what was going to happen before he’d even walked down the stairs.

“No, no, no.” Stiles burst out. “The house isn’t even ready, you can’t throw him out.”

“This doesn’t concern you.” His dad said, and Stiles saw red, anger and panic that Derek would really leave.

“Like hell it doesn’t.” He snapped. “He’s got nowhere to go until the house is finished.”

“He can afford a hotel.”

“It’s okay.” Derek said, glancing at Stiles.

“No it’s not!” His dad suddenly roared. Stiles rocked back on his heels, not expecting the reaction. “That’s my boy. My baby!” He got to his feet and glared. “I invited you into my house! I trusted you with my son.” He flung open the backdoor and pointed outside. “You are going to leave right now. And if I ever see you hanging around those kids again I’ll arrest you for paedophilia and the coercion of minors. You make me sick!”

Stiles couldn’t believe that Derek just walked out. He didn’t even **_try_ ** to argue or fight, just walked out the door and shut it silently behind him. His world was falling apart around his ears. He **_needed_** Derek. His dad locked the backdoor – a stupid gesture, really, before turning to face Stiles. He started yelling – yelling about Derek and Isaac and the rest of the pack. Talking about trust and boundaries and how Derek was some kind of sexual predator. Stiles head was throbbing with frustration and anger, he needed his dad to understand, but every time he tried his dad would just raise his voice louder. Stiles head was bursting – spots forming in his vision.

The coffee mug on the table shattered first, sending shards of ceramic flying across the room. His dad stared at it for a moment, shock and confusion on his face, until the glasses on the counter started cracking. Stiles stood unmoving in the middle of the kitchen, looking down at his hands. Blue fire was running over them, up his arms and starting to engulf his body. He could see his dad yelling, screaming – but Stiles couldn’t hear anything over the crackle and snap of blue flames. The glasses on the counter exploded, glass shards flying across the room – the muffled pop and crack of items in the cupboards snapping under the stress of Stiles frustration. The last thing he remembered before passing out, was the window blowing – and Derek. Derek grabbing his dad by the waist and shielding him from the shard that flew towards him – embedding inches deep in Derek’s side.

* * *

 

He awoke in the hospital. The hard mattress and smells giving away his location before he even opened his eyes. His head was on fire, throbbing and aching more than anything he’d ever felt before in his life. Vision blurry, he blinked once, twice, trying to focus.

“Stiles, dude, you need to drink this right now.” Scott was saying, pressing a plastic cup to his lips. “Hurry, before the doctors come back.” He opened his mouth and let the cold liquid run down his throat. Tea – very cold tea, Scott had obviously had it for a long time. “Derek told me to get you this as soon as you woke up.” Scott was saying, “Things are not great right now. My mom let me in, but if your dad catches me in here, I think he might kill me.”

The ache in his head was lessening, but his eyes were still blurry. “I can’t see too good.” He said, but his voice was raw – like he’d spent hours screaming.

“They’ve got like, wrapping over your skin.” Scott whispered.

“Why?”

“You were on fire.” Scott said. “The doctors say about 70% burns. They don’t know why you’re not **_dead_**.”

“I feel okay.” Stiles croaked. “Are you sure?”

“Dude, we heard Derek screaming for miles.” Scott took a breath, “We thought you were dead.” His voice broke on the last word. “They are refusing to take off the bandages, no one is allowed to see you – Derek is going apeshit – we had to shoot him with tranquilisers just to get near you, and your dad knows. He **_knows_**.”

“Knows?”

“About Derek, about the pack – everything.” Scott whispered. “He’s threatened to shoot us if we come near you, he’s gone totally insane.”

“Where is he?” Stiles managed.

“He’s talking to the surgeon. My mom says they’re talking about skin grafts and… Jesus, Stiles, we thought you were **_dead_**.” Stiles could only see the outline of his friend, everything was so fuzzy. “Shit.” He said, glancing at the door. “They’re on their way. I’ve got to go, Stiles – you’re dad’ll kill me if he finds me in here.”

Stiles nodded, unsure what to do. He felt fine, aside from his headache – certainly not like he was anywhere near dying. The click of the door opening and closing bright the sounds of the hospital in to his room for only a few moments before Scott was gone.

He’d timed it pretty close though – less than 60 seconds later, the door opened again, and the voices of his dad and a few other people he couldn’t recognise washed over him.

“We need to be very careful, as he is so young.” The stranger was saying. Stiles could hear his dads laboured breathing, like he was just trying to hold himself together.

“Dad?” He managed, hating that his voice sounded so rough. The next few moments were taken up with everyone talking at the same time, his dad crying – doctors calling for nurses.

“He shouldn’t be awake.” The doctor was saying. “We need to up his drip. Increase his morphine. The pain will be unbearable.”

“I feel fine.” Stiles managed. No one was really paying him any attention. “Honest, I feel fine.”

“Stiles?” His dad was saying, voice choked with tears. “Can you hear me?”

“Yes.” He managed. “Can anyone hear me?”

“Yes, we can hear you.” The doctor said.

“Cause no one is paying me any fucking attention!” He snapped. “I feel **_fine_**.”

“It’s the morphine talking.” The doctor said. “The effects will be-”

“Dad, please!” Stiles cut across. “Please, I feel fine. Get this crap off me.” The bandages felt suffocating on his skin, as though he couldn’t breathe – the world closed off from him completely.

“If we remove the bindings he could develop an infection.” The doctor hurried. “It could kill him.”

“Dad. Please. Listen to me.” Stiles begged, but he knew his father would not take the risk. Stiles tried to sit up, but the nurse had arrived, the doctor told her to add something to his drip, and the next thing he knew, he was drifting off to sleep again, the sound of his father telling him it would be okay in his ears.

* * *

 

He woke up to darkness, unable to open his eyes. It took him a few moments to remember what had happened – he was in hospital, no one was listening to him. He carefully lifted his arm, feeling the drip that was feeding him drugs he didn’t want, and touched his face. He was wrapped in gauze. It took him a few moments to work out how to manoeuvre his arms with the drips, but he finally managed to get the wrapping off his head. He was able to make out a few things from the light from the window leading into the corridor.

He carefully pulled the gauze off his hands and arms, and once free, he looked over his skin. Pale, with a few freckles – no sign of any burns. He looked at the needles in his arm and groaned. He was going to have to pull those out – and the uncomfortable feeling in his groin meant a catheter too.

It hurt like hell, an experience he never, **_ever_** wanted to have to repeat. Thank God he was out of it when they put it in. He swung his legs out of the bed and padded to the bathroom, turning on the light. In the mirror, he looked over his naked body. Nothing. Not a damn mark. Even his hair was still there, although it did feel a little shorter – either that tea was working some fucking amazing healing, or something else was going on. How the hell was he going to be able to explain **_this_ ** away?

* * *

 

Stiles stood in the bathroom, staring at his reflection for a while, trying to see if anything was different. According to Scott, he should have died, the doctors who had been with his dad had seemed genuinely worried. But nothing was wrong. He ran his hands over his body, and felt a slight smoothness – like the skin once a scab had been picked off too soon.

How was he going to explain this? No one was going to believe that he was able to ‘cure’ 70% burns with tea. He needed to get in touch with Talon, with Derek – with anyone who could help him right now. He heard the door to his room open, and he froze in place.

“Stiles?” The soft female voice was very familiar.

“Mrs McCall?” He asked, voice still broken and harsh. She walked through to the small white bathroom and froze in place. Stiles stared back.

“Stiles...” She started. “Is this... like Scott?” She said, “Like a wolf... thing?”

“I think so.” He said – unsure if Scott had told her about how he was becoming... more... than just Stiles Stilinski.

“You need to put some clothes on.” She said, holding out her hand to him. Stiles didn’t think twice, Mellissa was like a mom to him; he took her hand and followed her through. She found him some scrubs, and once he had pulled them on, she checked the bleeding on his arms and hands where he had pulled out the needles.

“Stiles, I don’t really understand what is going on right now, but I know your father is worried about you.” She sat on the bed beside him and held his hand while she checked his pulse. “You were unconscious for nearly a week, Stiles – we were all so worried about you.”

“A week?” He said, not quite believing it. “It doesn’t feel that long.”

“Stiles, you should be dead – people don’t just sleep off burns like you had.”

“I don’t know what to tell you.” Stiles said, holding her hand tightly. “You just need to trust me that I’m really, really okay.” He sighed. “I don’t know what I’m going to tell the doctors – I don’t know what to do!”

“I... is there someone who can help you?” She said.

“I think so, but... I don’t know how to get in touch with him. I only know him from online.”

“We have a computer here, but I don’t think I can get you near it without explaining why you aren’t covered in burns.”

“You could do it; you could go online and ask him for help.”

She wrote down the site and password on a little note book from her pocket.

“Stay here.” She said, walking out of the room. “Lay back on the bed and pull the covers up, so if anyone walks past they might not notice.”

* * *

 

She didn’t come back. Stiles lay on the bed until the small window near the roof started to show the light shifting from dark to early morning. Panic started to set in. He could see the nurses walking back and forth past the window, but thankfully no one came through to see him.

Going by the clock he could see if he twisted his head a little – it was now well past 9am, and Mrs McCall hadn’t returned. Then, like the worst nightmare he could think of, a Doctor walked through the doors. White coat and id badge proclaimed him to be Dr Runningwolf – Stiles sagged with relief.

“Sounds to me like someone lost their temper and nearly blew up their house.” He said, in a cool, easy accented voice. “You need to start meditating. Get rid of those negative energies that are flowing all around you.”

“How did you get here so fast?” Stiles said, even with his wrecked voice, he could hear the relief in his tone.

“I’m Doc Runningwolf. My team and I flew in, after hearing about your case.” He paused. “And by team, I mean a group of very persuasive young men and a talented young spell caster who are working on getting this sorted out. I’m here to ensure that you don’t repeat this mistake again.”

“It was an accident.” Stiles defended.

“I’m sure it was, very few people set themselves on fire on purpose.” The older man said, twitching an eyebrow. “What caused it?”

“My dad. He threw Derek out of the house,” Stiles said, closing his eyes. “Started really yelling at me... he’s never been like that before. He wouldn’t listen.”

“Derek is...?”

“He’s Derek – um... the ‘were – my familiar.”

“Ah.” The Shaman said. “I see.”

“Look, my dad... he’s never like that. He’s always really laid back about everything.”

“What caused this falling out?”

“He... um... It sounds way worse than it is – he found us – the pack – asleep together. Its not like... sex or anything, its just like... we like to sleep together – and Derek was there, and he’s a bit older than us and...” He trailed off, looking at the older man hopelessly. “My dad was calling him a pervert, you know? Derek isn’t like that!”

“So you two aren’t... involved?”

“Um... not... well...” Stiles looked helplessly at Daniel Runningwolf. “I know I’m only 17, okay? But I’m not stupid. I really like him and I think he really likes me – and... He’s **_part_ ** of me.”

“Your dad might have been right to be so angry. After all, this Derek was living in your house, and he is older than you. Your father is the Sheriff, yes?” When Stiles nodded, he continued. “He let this man into his house, and as far as he knows – not knowing about the other things going on – this man has convinced his underage son into thinking he’s in love.” He paused, looking out the window to the corridor.

“It’s not like that.”

“Your father is a good man, from all accounts. From what we’ve found out, he’s open, honest and works hard. Too hard.”

“He’s never home, if that’s what you mean.”

“Yes, that's what I mean. He left you alone with this Derek – and now he thinks that you’ve been hurt – taken advantage of.” He held up his hand as Stiles started to argue. “I know that’s not what happened, but your father does not know this.”

The door opened again and an attractive dark-haired girl walked through. She couldn’t have been much older than Stiles.

“We’ve worked our way through the staff. The squires are in the process of changing the medical records – as far as anyone here knows, he came in after scalding himself with hot water.” She looked at Stiles and nodded. It wasn’t particularly friendly or hostile – just a nod. “His father and the nurse that contacted us, we’ve not been able to coerce into thinking any different. They are too close to him to be manipulated by me.”

“That will be fine.” Daniel Runningwolf said. He took the papers she was holding and scrawled something on the bottom. “You are officially discharged. I would suggest going home. I’ll have Talon send you some meditation chants on that internet thing, control your temper. But for now – we need to work on your control – focus and channelling.”

* * *

 

He sat in the room for hours, going through different techniques by the end of it, he had a better understanding than all the hours he’d spent on the internet talking to Talon. He couldn’t think what 4 years of training in New Orleans would do to him.

His dad hugged him, a frantic squeeze that lasted too long, when he saw Stiles walk out of the room, but they didn’t talk to each other at all on the drive home.

When they got through the door, Stiles started up the stairs.

“Stiles, I-”

“Look, dad, I don’t want to talk about it right now. I want to have a shower and put my own clothes on, and I want to be left alone for a while.” He said, before walking to his room and closing the door with a click. He was expecting Derek to be there, or Scott, or Isaac or anyone, but his room was empty. His phone was sitting on the desk where he left it – a few texts from people before they found out he was in hospital.

‘I’m home.’ He sent the mass text to the pack, to Derek, before stepping in the shower.

* * *

 

One text was waiting for him when he stepped out. From Isaac. ‘UR da band us. Wont let us c u. we @ the new plce.’

He threw his phone on the bed and pulled out a random selection of clothes. Pulling on his jeans and his red flash tee-shirt that Derek bought him, he stuffed the rest into his backpack, along with his laptop and pulled out the plastic tool box he was keeping his collection of herbs and mixtures.

Slinging the bag over his shoulder, he started down the stairs. His dad was in the kitchen, he could hear him sweeping the shards of glass up. Stiles stopped at the door, looking in. They place was a mess, burnt out and utterly destroyed. He could see the soot on the ceiling and the outline of shoe prints on the floor where he had been standing. His dad looked up, face clouding the moment he saw what Stiles was carrying.

“Where do you think you are going?” He said, standing up, dustpan and brush in his hands.

“I’m going to see Derek.” Stiles said, simply.

“Like hell you are!” His dad yelled, throwing the pan down. “You are not going near that bunch of freaks!”

Stiles stood there for a moment and stared at the man he loved more than anyone in the world. “Dad, You need to realise that there are things going on that you don’t really understand. One day we’ll have a sit down and have a really long conversation, and when we do, Derek **_will_** be there.” He said. “But right now, I’m going to see my friends.”

* * *

 

Stiles was only half way up the stairs of the wide Hale porch when the massive double doors flew open. Isaac and Reever tumbled out, yelling, hugging – followed by Jackson and Scott, Erica and Boyd. He was half carried, half dragged into the house. It was warm, that was the first thing he noticed, and the lights were working.

“Where is Derek?” He asked, and the group fell silent.

“He’s... um... he’s in the basement.” Isaac  said, stuttering over his words.

“Why?” Stiles asked. The silence was deafening.

“He’s... we had to... um...”

“They shot him.” Came a feminine voice. Stiles turned to see a small, curvaceous red head in a white vest, fitted jeans and knee length leather boots.  “Twice.”

“Who are you?” Stiles asked.

“Genève.” She said, swaying forward.

“My cousin.” Reever supplied. “Mom sent her to keep an eye on us while Derek was... you know.”

“Shot?” Stiles supplied. “Why the hell did you shoot him!?”

“I think you’d better take a look.”  Genève said, walking towards the large doors that lead to the basement. It wasn’t like other peoples basements – Derek had designed it as a training area for his pack. It was open, huge and twice as big as the house that was built over it. A pool that could be heated or cooled to any temperature and an obstacle course that looked like a training course for Olympic gymnasts – spoiled only by the chained up werewolf in the middle of the sparing ring.

“They needed me here – He’s their Alpha. He could tell them to let him go and they would have to do it. He’s not my Alpha – I don’t give a shit how much he yells at me.”

“Derek?” Stiles said, approaching the hunched figure.

“Careful.” Genève cautioned. “He’s... cranky.”

“Derek?”

The hunched figure moved, the rattle of chains as he tried to pull himself up. “Stiles?” He growled, looking up. Red eyes, fangs – he looked worse than hell on a bad day. “Stiles!” He cried, lunging forward, but the chains around his neck held him in place – choking him.

Stiles lurched forward, grabbing   at the chains that were wrapped around Derek. “Get these off him!” He called, and the pack moved forward, grabbing the chains and carefully unwrapping them from around their Alpha.

“You were on fire.” Derek gasped, grabbing at Stiles jacket with both hands. “You were on fire!”

“Yeah, but I’m okay.” Stiles said, letting Derek franticly pat him down. He grabbed Stiles hard and pull him into a tight embrace. The other wolves wrapped their arms around them both and held on – a mass of warm bodies and pent up relief.

 


	16. Chapter 16

Three days made everything better. Three days of staying away from School and his dad and his life – made everything so much **_better_**.

He spent his nights on the floor of the great room with Derek and the pack, wrapped up in the warm, familiar bodies and smells that calmed and steadied him, spent his days trailing Derek and helping with stupid tasks like making the decorators coffee and stealing kisses when no one was looking. It was as though someone had reached into his life and hit the pause button – no one talked about the fire, or how Derek had flipped out so much his Betas needed to shoot him with tranquilisers to keep him calm. No one talked about how Stiles just moved in, how Derek had apparently turned into a snuggle bunny overnight or how it was now perfectly okay to climb all over their Alpha – because it just felt so normal.

But Stiles knew it wasn’t going to last, knew that his dad would show up eventually, knew he’d have to go back to school because aside from the kisses (which were so very, **_very_** nice) he was starting to get bored out of his wits. Derek could tell, Stiles knew, because he would find excuses to give Stiles stupid jobs that anyone could do – like make crappy coffee for the decorators, and insisting he was the only one who could do it right. Stiles knew that Derek was trying to keep him there. Keep him safe. Three days.

* * *

 

They were sprawled over the massive leather couch – the only one Derek could find that would easily sit ten people who had a nasty habit of wriggling and clambering over each other – watching TV on the biggest screen Stiles had ever seen in his life, when the police cruiser pulled up. The glass walls didn’t hide much, so Stiles knew that his dad could see them just as clearly as they could see him. How Derek managed to untangle himself from Stiles, Isaac and Erica without all of them tumbling to the soft carpet, Stiles had no idea – but by the time his dad had reached the doors, Derek was pulling them open. Stiles didn’t need to be a wolf to smell the disappointment radiating around him –Isaac was gripping his arm too hard and Erica was giving him a watery gaze, hell, even Jackson was pouting.

“I’ve come to collect Stiles.” Was all his dad said, and the mass groan that came from the teenagers around him made him want to cry. If his dad heard it (and how could he not?) he didn’t let on.

“Yessir.” Derek said, stepping back. “I’ll get his stuff.” He paused. “You’re welcome to come inside.”

Stiles thought his father would decline the offer, stand on the porch and distance himself from whatever ‘freaks’ were inside, but when he stepped over the threshold, Stiles actually felt like he could breathe for the first time since he’d seen the car pull up.

“Not what I was expecting.” His dad said, looking about. Stiles wondered if he was expecting giant posters of PeodoBear and solo cups scattered all over the place. He looked over at them, sprawling over the sofa – his eyes widened slightly.

“Jackson? I thought you had a restraining order on out on my boy?” He paused. “and Scott too.” Stiles fought back the urge to smirk at Jackson, who was at that point, wrapped around Scott and laying half on Boyd. His face blanked.

“I dropped it.”

“You might want to inform the police of that.” His dad said, frowning. “and your father – who is not aware of you having dropped **_anything_** by the conversation we had this morning.”

“Whatever.” Jackson huffed, which earned him a punch from all three people he was currently connected to. “Fine!” he snapped, pulling out his phone. “I’m doing it.” He slid off the sofa, dialling and walking into the kitchen.

“Does your mom know where you are, Scott?”

“Yes, sheriff.” Scott replied instantly. “You can call her to check.” He added, swiftly.

Derek was coming back down the wide open staircase, carrying Stiles backpack and supplies, looking like his usual brooding self. Jackson sauntered back into the great room and flopped back on the sofa, ignoring the protests from the people he was crushing. “Done it.”

“Stiles, I think it’s time that you and I had this talk.” His dad suddenly said, looking at Derek suspiciously. Stiles managed to keep his groan from reaching his dad, but the Betas on the sofa whined in sympathy.

“We can talk in the kitchen.” Derek said, glancing at the pack, who nodded back as one.

“We were going to go out anyway, till dinner.” Isaac said, standing up and pulling Reever with him. She swung around so she was latched on his back, using her knees to hold on. Reever never looked anything but adorable.

“Yeah, like a ramble.” Erica grimaced. She was lousy at hiding her disappointment.

* * *

 

Derek was sitting at the massive oak table. There were chairs at the ends, but solid wooden benches at the sides, Stiles had serious ideas about what could be done on that table – although Derek had been keeping all their interactions strictly PG rated since he’d arrived on the doorstep holding his backpack. They all seemed wildly inappropriate with his dad in the room.

“I think we need to start at the beginning.” His dad was saying, and Stiles knew that tone. It was his ‘interrogation’ tone of voice – Stiles knew it well.

“Did you know about Mom’s family?” Stiles asked, suddenly. “About why she left?”

“No. Not much. I think they were… unusual.”

“Well, yeah, they kinda were.” Stiles said, holding out his hand. “It runs in the family.” Carefully channelling like Doc Runningwolf had patiently taught him, sitting on the edge of his hospital bed, Stiles saw the blue fire flicker for a moment in the palm of his hand. He heard Derek groan, he hated fire. Hated seeing it, hearing it, smelling it. They only lasted a few seconds, long enough for his dad to start panicking and Derek to grip the edge of the table like a drowning man. “I can’t do much more than that.” Stiles said, feeling utterly drained. “Too much and I lose control – that’s what happened in the kitchen. I lost control and couldn’t protect myself.”

“You were covered in burns.” His dad said, voice ragged and harrowed. Derek got up from his chair, started moving about the room like a man possessed. Stiles hadn’t shown him that trick – knew how he would react.

“It’s hard to explain. Doc Runningwolf explained it so much better than me, he’s kinda the expert here – he said… It’s like – a really strong immune system. It can fight off almost anything, I’ll never have the cold, or the flu, I won’t ever need to worry about HIV or meningitis, broken bones or burns. The downside is that to keep it up, I need to… like… recharge my batteries with specific herbs and stuff. Like an energy drink.”

“And the fire?”

“It’s useless. Like… the light show at Niagara – it looks pretty, and it uses a lot of energy, but it doesn’t do anything. Just run off.”

“They set you on fire!”

“Actually… that wasn’t the flames, Doc Runningwolf said that everything is tied to emotion, and I lost my temper – and I couldn’t control it, and my skin started to react. It wasn’t burns.” Derek pressed a hot mug into his hands, and the bitter smell hit his nose, he smiled. “Thanks.” He put a bottle of Whiskey and a glass down in front of his dad, and Stiles was going to argue – but figured that there was much, much worse to come, his dad maybe **_needed_** a drink to get through this.

“Who is this Runningwolf person?” His dad said, hands shaking as he opened the bottle.

“He’s… he’s… A teacher. He lives in New Orleans and he’s been helping me – like an online course or something.” Stiles paused. “He’s the one that got me into UNO, I can get my degree there and he’s going to make sure nothing like that ever happens again. Ever again.”

“So… you’re not going for school?” His dad said, sounding disappointed.

“No, I am! I’m going to study history and marketing.” Stiles quickly said. “It’s just after school I’ll be getting these extra lessons. You know, to like… be better.”

“And this is what you are?” His dad said, turning to Derek. “You can make fire and… whatever else?”

“No.” Derek said quietly.

“Dad, there is this whole huge world that I knew nothing about until you found Laura Hale in the woods. Then everything just went… crazy – Scott and I got in over our heads, did everything wrong, and we’re only just starting to work it out now.” Stiles took a deep breath. “Kate set fire to the Hale house – because Derek and his family were… are… different. She was crazy and fucked up and killed all those people because she was insane. Derek didn’t kill Laura, something else did.” Oh, how he totally was NOT going to tell his dad that crazy uncle Peter did that. “And then… Scott got… like – infected. Not that it’s a disease or anything!” He added quickly. “And then Isaac and Erica and Boyd and Jackson.”

“But not you?”

“No. Not me.” Stiles said. “Look – Dad, this is going to sound crazy, insane – but please just know that every lie I’ve told you – every half-truth – I told you to protect you.”

“Spit it out.”

“Derek’s a werewolf.”

* * *

 

So, it could have gone better. Stiles thought, sitting in his room where he was totally grounded for the rest of his life – but it could have gone so much worse. His dad had kind of been okay with the whole, werewolf thing, especially when Derek had shifted. He was, however, less than impressed with all the lies that Stiles had been telling him. And he was seriously pissed when Derek admitted (totally without telling Stiles first!) that, yes, he had in fact been inappropriate with an underage Stiles. Who had wanted to stab himself in the eye with the teaspoon in his mug when his dad had asked.

Talk about mortifying.

He did, however, learn a few things.

Firstly, the whole sexy Derek time had nothing at all to do with Stiles new found magical awesomeness. “He was just always around, and… I don’t know – he kind of grew on me.” Like mould, Stiles surmised. What a great way of putting it, thanks Derek. Asshole.

Secondly, Derek wasn’t super happy with his dad refusing to let it continue. “We’re not doing anything wrong. We’re not having sex, and if your being totally honest, I don’t think you’d be all that worried if he was sleeping with someone like Erica.”

It kind of went a little downhill after that. And the ‘talk’ once he got home was even worse, his dad talking about boundaries and trust and (dear god) condoms.

Stiles was pretty sure it was possible to die of mortification.

* * *

 

Sleeping alone sucked, there was no other way of putting it. He was almost ready to revert to his childhood and crawl in bed with his dad – but he’d stopped that when his mom had gotten sick. He missed Derek, of course, but he missed Isaac more – which was fucking **_weird_**.

Luckily, when he got into school – dropped off by his dad because his truck was still at Derek’s – Isaac and Reever were the first to jump him once he got out the car.

“Dude!” Reever gasped, wrapping him in a bear hug that probably bust a few ribs. “I had the worst night sleep ever. Derek sulked off to his room and we were all left on the floor.” She threw his dad a pretty evil look as he drove away. “When can you come back?”

“Around the same time Hell freezes over.” Stiles admitted. Isaac grimaced.

“Take it your dad wasn’t up for convincing?” Isaac sighed, as he and his mate wrapped their arms around Stiles and walked into School.

“No. He’s almost as stubborn as me.”

* * *

 

It had been about two weeks of Stiles under extended house arrest before his dad would even let him take the bus to school, rather than dropping him off personally every day. He only did it out of necessity – he was late for work almost every day.

* * *

 

A month into Stiles House Arrest (or S.H.A as the wolves had taken to calling it) the Betas broke every rule his dad had in place and showed up on the doorstep, with a selection of hilariously inappropriate movies – An American Werewolf in Paris, The Wolfman and Underworld – and pizza. Then refused to leave.

So his dad had no choice but to let them in – Stiles got the feeling he was hoping to install a ‘no touching’ rule, but by the time he’d got through to the living room, Stiles was already somewhere in the bottom of the worlds most enthusiastic puppy pile. They fell asleep half way through the first movie, and his dad had stolen the pizza.

* * *

 

He hadn’t seen Derek for nearly a month and a half. Ever since the wolf had arrived in town, Stiles had been in pretty regular contact with him – and he felt the separation a lot more than he thought he would. His dad had overheard Jackson complaining that they were basically children of an ugly divorce, the way they were being forced to choose between Derek and Stiles – and had let (for the first time since the ‘talk’) Stiles go visit the Hale house after school. Only if he was back before 7pm.

When he’d told Scott, you’d think the boy didn’t see him all day at school the way his face lit up.

“You’ll have to text Derek though, my dad still has my phone, and my jeep.”

He could tell how much everyone missed him when Jackson offered to take him in his Porsche. The only person he’d ever let in his precious car was Lydia. Stiles wondered if he’d make him take his shoes off.

* * *

 

Derek had made dinner. Stiles was so fed up of his dad’s microwave meals that he pounced on the meatloaf like a starving man, ignoring the looks of outrage when he’d pulled the two largest slices from the tray.

After dinner, Stiles and Derek were in the kitchen, pretending to be loading the dishwasher, but both pretty aware that the ruse was pointless with the hearing of the Betas who had cranked the TV volume up as loud as it would go. Derek had his arms wrapped around Stiles, mouth working that spot behind Stiles ear that was reducing him to jelly in the Alphas hold.

“Not that this isn’t awesome – because it totally is – but when did you become okay with PDA?” Stiles mumbled. He felt Derek shrug. “S’not an answer.” He complained. Trust him, the one person in the world who found it physically difficult to keep his mouth **_shut_** , to end up with the world’s most uncommunicative person.

“You were on fire.” He said, lips leaving his neck only long enough to murmur into Stiles ear.

“Ah.” Stiles said, understanding. “So you kind think… S’okay to… make the most of me while I’m here?”

Stiles understood. All the times he’d not held his mom, or told her he loved her, when she was gone there seemed to be so many lost opportunities. Derek knew how it felt too loose a lot more than just his mom – if holding on to tight after he thought he was losing someone else was the result, Stiles was okay with that. More than okay with that. 100% okay with how Derek was totally…

“Dude! My dad will never let me back here I’ve got a hickie the size of mount Rushmore on my neck!” He hissed.

“You’ll heal.” Derek grinned, and my god, Stiles could actually feel the smile on his skin like a brand. The thing was… he’d made out with Derek a LOT in the three days he’d semi run away from home, and this wasn’t making out. This was Derek being an Alpha and trying to get as much of his smell on Stiles as possible.

* * *

 

He’d caved and asked Isaac about it once.

“It’s like… the longer Reever is away, the more she smells like all these other people mixed in, and when I see her, all I want to do is rub myself all over her.” He paused. “That sounds gross. It’s not gross, I promise. It’s just really nice to smell yourself on someone you love.”

“So its like… scenting?” Stiles was somewhat an expert on that by this stage.

“No! No – scenting is just smelling and that’s good and not… like, I don’t get off on smelling you.” He said, wrinkling his nose.

“You did once.”

“Doesn’t count. Reever was there – and **_please never tell Derek_**.” Isaac hissed. “Scenting isn’t the same as… as like… marking. Markings about smells and – like… **_owning_**. Reever is mine, she smells like me, and when she doesn’t… I don’t like it.”

“Did Derek tell you all that?”

“Derek doesn’t talk about this stuff. Reever was getting pissed at me for not marking her and I had no idea what she was talking about.”

“Did she tell you?”

“Her mom did.” Isaac said, turning beet red. “And I swear to God, if you tell Jackson I had to have a sit down talk with her mom about how to go about… marking… my mate, I’ll actually kill you.”

Stiles had laughed, but promised, and Isaac told him a whole hell of a lot of information that Derek had never bothered to let him in on.

Can’t get Reever pregnant if they have sex in human form – sounded like the easiest form of birth control in the world until Isaac gave him a ‘y u so stoopid’ look. “Yeah, keeping 100% control when you’re half dead from the greatest sex of your life is **_super_** easy.” He said, dryly.

No point in wondering about the whole ‘knotting’ thing – “Totally bullshit.” Isaac scoffed. “Although you do like… stay… you know, _hard_ ,” He whispered. “For **_ages_** after. Makes jerking off impossible if you need to leave the house.”

Derek’s habit of always holding him from behind? “I think that just means you’re going to be the one buying the lube, to be honest.” Isaac said, then laughed as Stiles punched him.

* * *

 


	17. Chapter 17

Stiles spent every day after school at Derek’s. His dad wasn’t too happy about it, but because Derek actually fed him real food and Stiles always brought home a tuperwear container of leftovers for him (who would go to his grave before admitting that he really missed Derek’s cooking), and was **_always_** back before 7pm – there wasn’t much his dad could say. It didn’t **_stop_** him from saying a lot about it though.

“Stiles, he’s much older than you – you’re only a child.”

“Stiles – you don’t understand, you’re only 17.”

“Stiles, when you’re older, you’ll see I’m right.”

The only issue with that was… well… He was graduating. He was leaving soon. Leaving the state – leaving everyone, really.

“Dad, you are aware that when I go to New Orleans that I’m going to be living alone, right? I’m going to be going out and living by myself?”

“I am aware of that, Stiles.”

“Just checking – because right now your acting like I’m too young to cross the street without your help and I’m a little concerned what you’re going to be like when I leave the **_State_**.”

Normally after that Stiles would storm away. Things were not sunshine and flowers in the Stilinski household.

* * *

 

His bags were packed and he was ready to go – and he couldn’t get that damn song out of his head. Talon had invited him to go down to New Orleans before the semester started, giving him time to collect his bearings and get to know the city (and its dangers) before he had to divide his time between school, the supernatural and a part time job. Which was amazing. Great. Wonderful!

Only, as he stood in the middle of the great room and watched Isaac and Scots faces crumple when he’d told them – he started to question how much of a great decision it had been. Derek wasn’t saying anything, but there was nothing unusual about that.

“You’re going **_when_**?” Scott asked.

“Next week. I told you!” Stiles reminded them. “I told you I was going early!”

“But classes don’t start for another 2 months!” Isaac whined, and Reever wrapped her arms around her mates waist, tucking her head under his arm so Stiles wouldn’t see her expression.

“I thought we were going to have the whole summer together!” Jackson snapped. “This sucks fucking **_balls_** , Stilinski.”

“I told you!” He repeated. “I told you all I was going on the 12th!”

“We thought you meant next month!” Scott wailed. “We made plans!”

* * *

 

Derek wasn’t talking. No one was talking, which Stiles hated. They were in Derek’s car – his dad, Scott and Isaac in the back – and Derek brooding in the front. Behind them was Stiles Jeep, which he’d given to Reever to look after till he got back – Erica and Boyd with her. Jackson had opted to take his Porsche – he was speeding  on ahead of them all. The airport was close – he could tell by how low the planes overhead were to the ground.

Derek wasn’t happy – **_seriously_** not happy. Pissed, in fact. Furious. Because Stiles had pretty much walked right over his PG rating. Jumped over it. **_Vaulted_**. Stiles should probably feel a little guilty about it – after all, Derek had made it pretty clear that he didn’t want to take it further. Kind of. The guy was a master at mixed messages, so Stiles really couldn’t be blamed when one moment the Alpha had his hands all over him, and the next he was furious because Stiles had taken it a little further. Just a little. Okay, so he’d probably blindsided the poor wolf, but it wasn’t his fault! He’d been cockteased and blocked for the better part of a year! There was only so much pressure you can put on a guy before he snapped.

* * *

 

“I did tell you I was going.” Stiles was trying to say, but Derek was pressed along the entire length of him and pushing him back further into the massive bed. It needed to be massive, because apparently everyone slept in it. Derek had grumbled he didn’t know why he’d even bothered giving them rooms. But right now, they were the only people there, and Derek was alternating between licking and biting every part of Stiles he could get at. Stiles had already taken off his plaid shirt – he was wondering if he would get away with pulling off his Flash Tee as well. Derek really didn’t like Stiles removing **_any_** clothing, which was confusing because he’d do stuff like pin him to the bed and act like all he wanted was Stiles utterly naked – like how he was currently riding Stiles thigh and pinning his arms above his head. Which was hot, so fucking hot. Even if you discounted the licking – which Stiles wasn’t about to do because **_damn_** , the man was killing him. He let out a hiss of frustration, trying to move his arms from Derek’s grip – his Alpha was having none of it. His legs were still free though, and with Derek’s thigh pushed his into his groin, he was able to relieve some of the pressure that was killing him slowly by rocking his hips against hard muscle.

He hated when Derek was like this – hated when the wolf totally dominated him, wouldn’t let him even participate. It was always in the bedroom too – anywhere else, Derek was more than happy for Stiles to touch and feel and grind – but the bedroom was where Derek turned into Tarzan. A really hot, **_sexy_ ** Tarzan – but Tarzan nonetheless. All Stiles wanted to do was touch him, but the damn wolf kept him pinned. He let out another frustrated hiss.

“Derek, you are killing me here.” He moaned, trying to find a way of leveraging himself up. Derek didn’t respond. He never did when he was like that – just pressed more of his body into Stiles. Who was starting to become pissed off and turned on at the same time. Derek licked the inside of Stiles neck in one long, wet movement that really shouldn’t have made him curl his toes and groan, but it did. Derek stilled – and did it again, and this time Stiles actually let out a moan that sounded like the very worst (or best, depending on your view) porn flick extra of all time. And Derek liked it. Stiles knew right away that Derek liked it a **_lot_** , because he forgot about holding Stiles down - let go of his wrists to grab his head and trail little open mouthed bites up the length of Stiles neck.

It took a few seconds for Stiles to realise that Derek was no longer gripping his wrists because… well… the Alpha had his full attention with the toe curling nibbles and licks that he had going on.

When his brain finally caught up with his body, he couldn’t help the feral smile on his lips, because Derek had just made a serious error in judgement. The wolf was totally focused on making Stiles moan, so moan he did – arching and grinding for good measure too. It worked better than he thought, because Derek had no idea what Stiles was doing until he had already undone the first couple of buttons – and was able to slip his hand into the front of Derek’s jeans.

Stiles had never touched another person’s cock before – he wasn’t sure exactly what he was expecting from Derek. He knew he’d be bigger or thicker, just because Derek was bigger and broader than he was. He’d felt it through his jeans, and that one time Derek had been in his tight boxers hadn’t left a lot to the imagination, but he wasn’t expecting it to feel quite so **_big_**. Derek was frozen in place, hardly even breathing. He was still holding onto Stiles head, but his lips were no longer dancing across the bruised tendon of his neck. In fact, the only part of Derek that felt alive was the cock pressed against Stiles hand, a thick vein throbbing under his palm.

“Are you dead?” Stiles whispered, not sure what to do. He hadn’t thought too far ahead, really, just that once he’d get this far it would all just **_happen_**. He really needed to cut down on the porn; it was starting to warp his expectations of what happened in the bedroom (or the prison, or the garage… Yes, less porn would probably be a good idea).

Derek still didn’t respond – and Stiles started to panic. He twisted his head to the left, trying to get a view of the wolf holding him in place. He wasn’t sure if he should be afraid or pleased when a pair of bright red eyes looked back at him, fangs clearly showing past Derek’s lips. Didn’t Isaac say it was pretty hard to keep control when you were getting it on? Stiles smiled, going with his first instinct – and moved his hand deeper into the Alphas jeans. Derek dipped his head, leaning on Stiles shoulder as his breathing rasped through his teeth.

The angle was awkward, Stiles wasn’t able to close his fingers around Derek because there just wasn’t enough room for him to manoeuvre. He tried to use his other hand to undo another button or two, but Derek grabbed his wrist. “Don’t even think about it.” He hissed, directly into Stiles ear.

“I can’t move.” Stiles whispered, not really sure why he was – the rest of the wolves had scarpered after Derek had told them he wanted to talk to Stiles alone. Yeah, they totally thought Derek wanted some goodbye sexy times.

“You don’t want to move.”

“Oh, I think you’ll find I really do.” Stiles grinned flexing his fingers slightly, which caused Derek to suck in a deep breath and stifle a groan. “I really, **_really_** do.”

“No.”

“Derek, you have to give me something!” Stiles said, voice tense. “Something to keep me going till I come back after half term!”

“You’re 17.”

“I’m 18 in two weeks, Derek. Come on!” Stiles groaned. “Isaac is three months younger than me and he’s been having sex for nearly a year!”

“Reever is his mate.” Derek said, gently pulling Stiles hand out of his jeans, sucking in a breath at the friction. “It’s different.”

“What the hell?!” Stiles snapped, pushing up. “You’ve already jerked **_me_** off! Why are you acting all fucking responsible now?” He resisted the urge to add ‘It’s not fair!’ to the end because he didn’t think it would help his ‘old enough for some mac-lovin’ line of argument.

“I’m your Alpha!” Derek snapped back. “Do as you’re told!”

Stiles would never understand how he’d managed it. One moment, he was half under Derek and scowling, the very next he was leaning over the wolf, knees straddling his hips.

“You aren’t **_my_** Alpha.” He grinned, evilly. Derek wasn’t used to anyone throwing him around – he looked slightly dazed and confused, still trying to work out how Stiles had managed to end up on top. It was enough time for Stiles to make a decision. He grabbed the fly of Derek’s jeans and pulled the past two buttons out with a slight pop and heaved those damn jeans down, tight ass boxers and all.

Before Derek had time to respond, before Stiles had time to second guess himself, he scooted down and licked the wide head of Derek’s cock. Derek groaned, like, really fucking groaned and made no move to push Stiles away. Stiles wrapped his hand around the base and closed his mouth over the head.

Porn might not be the best way to learn about sex, but it sure was a good way to get a few tips on how to give a semi decent blow job – Stiles found the sensation of Derek’s cock in his mouth to be nice, strange and unfamiliar – but nice. He tasted the small drop of pre-cum on his tongue – and his world shifted. Too late he remembered the curving script of the shaman Pip who had written ‘ _if taken by mouth, semen heightens the touch/smell threshold’_ because **_damn_**!

His world changed, coloured smoke and swirls in water, the smell of Derek was everywhere – spices and fire – he couldn’t get enough. Pulling as much of Derek into his mouth as he could, Stiles moaned, his mouth filling with saliva as he tasted the smell of the Alpha. Derek was holding on to the covers on the bed with both hands, head tipped back and breathing too fast, but Stiles could only think of the taste, the feel – his clothes rubbed and chaffed as he tasted another salty drop formed on the slit of Derek’s cock. Stiles sucked harder, trying to pull as much of the Alphas scent as possible. Derek bucked, pushing more of himself into Stiles mouth, who couldn’t help but gag a little as the flat head pressed against the back of his throat. He swallowed, trying to ease the pressure – only to hear Derek moan “Oh Fuck!” as his whole body tensed. He tried to pull back, but he was already pressed against the bed and Stiles had one hand wetly wrapped around the base of his cock, keeping him in place. The first thick, warm gush hit the back of his throat with a force Stiles wasn’t expecting, but the smell was intense. Stiles swallowed, pulling more and more of Derek’s cock into his mouth. He wasn’t sure how long Derek’s orgasm lasted, only that he was still hard, and Stiles was more than happy to keep sliding his mouth over every inch of his cock.

Stiles smelt Isaac before the teen opened the bedroom door, and lifted his head to glare at the Beta, who was looking at Derek and himself as though Stiles wasn’t in the middle of giving the worlds greatest blow job. Derek was still out of it, head back, eyes closed – Stiles didn’t think he even knew Isaac was there until the teen spoke.

“I just thought you might want to know it’s almost 7 and Stiles is gonna get even more grounded if he’s late. And we’re starving.” He added, unconcerned, before walking out.

* * *

 

The Airport was crowded. Stiles had never been on a plane before, so he wasn’t sure if it was normal for so many people to be in one place at the same time. Scott was already crying, holding on to Reever and Isaac who looked as through Stiles had taken away their best chew toy. Which he guessed he actually was, the amount of times they’d licked him to death. His dad and Derek were the only ones that were holding it together.

When they called his flight, everyone hugged him, Isaac and Reever crushing him between them as they tried to get as much of his smell as possible before he left and Scott just holding on to him for ages.

He’d wanted to kiss Derek, wrap his arms around him and not let go for little while, but the Alpha was carefully watching his dad – who was glaring, so all he got was a hug and the world’s smallest nuzzle to the neck.

Then they left, leaving him to say goodbye to his dad.

“I’ll be back for thanksgiving.” He said, nervously changing his grip on his backpack.

“I know.” His dad said, sadly. “Stiles, I know it’s not been great... I know I’ve not been taking... this whole... Derek thing... very well.” He said, “But you’re my boy, and I just want to protect you.”

Stiles gave his dad a bear hug – a huge, long hug that seemed just to make everything better all at once. It had been too long since their last one – and months until he’d get to do it again.

“I know, dad.” He whispered, holding tight. “I love you too.”

 

 


	18. Chapter 18

Stiles sat in class and laughed along with the other students. His History professor was probably the best teacher in the world – his knowledge of ancient Greece and Rome was encyclopaedic and he always knew how to make everything so easy to understand. Stiles had a bit of a crush on him, along with half the school. Yup, Professor Julian was a hottie.

His phone vibrated in his pocket – and he resisted the urge to check it right away. It was probably a pack member.

Scott had managed to graduate (just) and was at the Police Academy just outside of Beacon Hills – at the weekends he worked the desk at the police station and his dad was able to keep an eye on him.

Isaac had actually done really well, along with Reever. Both were training to become vets, although from what Isaac told Scott, the classes were a lot harder than either of them had expected. Reever worked weekends at her parents bar and Isaac was still with Dr Deaton.

Jackson went to Harvard – medical, rather than the law his father had wanted. He told everyone he hated it, but Stiles had talked to him a few times a week on the phone and got the impression that he was lying through his pointy teeth. He was currently ‘not enjoying’ paediatrics.

Erica was working at the local wildlife reserve, deciding on what she wanted to do with her life – she was hoping to start her own outdoor camping escape, take people hiking – corporate groups for team building, that kind of thing. Boyd was at the local college working on his marketing degree, they figured together they would be able to work something out.

And Stiles… Stiles was working his way towards… he had no idea. The mix of classes he was taking really didn’t make any sense, but he was having a great time and found that he really responded well to the learning structure of University.

When the class let out, he checked his phone. It was from Derek. ‘UPS Tracking States ETA Of Package: Arrived.’

Stiles grinned. Once a month, he got a package from home – from Derek. Clothes, mostly, although sometimes there were other things in there, a book, or a new Xbox game, or (and Stiles was so glad those packages weren’t being checked by the postal service) a small glass vial of blood.

He slid his phone back into the pocket of the leather jacket that had arrived last month. There had been a note in the pocket, in what could only be called ‘Disney Princess Handwriting’ _– You get it for a month, bring it back in person, D_.

Derek’s leather jacket, smelling like Derek – although now it mostly smelt like Stiles because he never had it off his back. He really didn’t want to send it back.

His car was in the lot, looking slightly out of place beside the electric or hybrid cars that were everywhere. A black chevy Impala – Derek refused to admit he’d bought it, even though the vanity plates were a dead giveaway. ‘C4S T13L’ Stiles had totally fan-girled out – and because everyone he knew was just so damn awesome, they all got it right away. He had Deans car! With the ultimate shipping plates! He was in fandom heaven.

He climbed in, pulling out his phone and calling. He didn’t bother with texts anymore – Derek paid his phone bill. He was a kept man.

“Dude!” Reever yelled as he pulled out his hands-free and started the car. “Did you get the package?”

“Not yet.” He grinned, “I’m just out of class. I thought you’d be at school now.”

“Yeah, I got home about an hour ago, when are you leaving?”

“Tonight.” He said, “There is an upside to working for a bunch of Bears – they understand about getting home for pack.” He’d thought asking Mama Peltier for some time off would be difficult, but she just shrugged. “ _You need to get back to your pack, Cher, I know this. Family is everything_.”

“Sweet!” Reever said. “Derek is in the shower, is he picking you up?”

“My dad is.”

“You think he’d take me an Isaac?”

“Show up at the door, he’ll not say no if you’re there.”

“Dude, I miss you. You have all the best plans.”

* * *

 

Home. Stiles missed everything about home. His dad was at the gate, Reever and Isaac on either side of him, Reever had her arm around his waist. They were spending Thanksgiving at Derek’s, his dad giving in only because Derek was cooking – and Scott came into work every day with a ‘test’ recipe that Derek was trying out. His dad was a sucker for home cooked food.

It was Isaac who spotted him first – face lighting up like a kid at Christmas. He’d only brought the one bag home, his laundry – figuring he could wear whatever was left at home.

His dad gave him a hug that rivalled Reevers, swiping away the moisture in his eyes with the back of his hand.

“I had to bring the cruiser, I hope you don’t mind.”

“Nah.” Stiles grinned. “It’s not the first time I’ve been in a police car, dad.”

* * *

 

Everyone was there, Jackson had flown back the day before, and for the first time in a really long time, everyone Stiles loved was in the same room at the same time and no one was yelling.

They used the fancy round table in the great room rather than the oak kitchen table – meaning that they didn’t have to climb over each other to get a place on the bench. The table was groaning under the weight of the food piled on it – even Stiles didn’t think that they would ever be able to eat their way through it.

“We have to say what we’re thankful for.” Reever said, moments before they were about to pounce on the food.

“Oh, come on Reev!” Isaac whined, “I’ve not eaten anything all day!”

“She’s right.” Mellissa said, “It’s important.” Scott’s mom was sitting beside his dad – Stiles wondered if he was the only one who noticed that they seemed much closer than before. “I’ll start.”

“I’m thankful for my son, who makes me so proud every day. And I’m thankful that he’s managed not to get himself killed on the shooting range yet.” Scott blushed as everyone laughed. He’d almost shot himself the first time they’d been given live rounds.

“I’m glad for my health and the fact that my boy managed to get home for the holidays.” His dad said, smiling over at Stiles.

“I’m Thankful for my new pack.” Reever said, “And for Isaac.” She added, touching his arm. When no one else spoke, she kicked her mate under the table.

“Ouch!” Isaac whined. “You can’t be that bloody thankful.” When she glared, he grinned. “I’m thankful for Derek, who changed my life, and Reever, who changed my life for the better.”

“I’m thankful that we only have to do this once a year.” Jackson snapped, looking at the food on the table. “And for my family.” He added, under his breath. Which was actually really sweet, if you thought about it.

“I’m thankful for my parents letting me spend Thanksgiving here, rather than at my great aunt in Nebraska.” Erica grinned.

“And for not having to worry about my future.” Boyd added.

“I’m thankful that Stiles is here.” Scott said, throwing his arm around Stiles shoulders. “And that we’re all here.”

“Me too!” Stiles said, hugging him back. They all looked at Derek – who was brooding, as usual.

“I’m just glad everyone is okay.” He said, eventually. He looked at Reever. “Can we eat now?”

* * *

 

Stiles had managed to grab the seat between Derek and Scott, and the whole way through the meal, he was super aware of the wolf sitting beside him, knee pressed against his leg. Every so often, Derek would lean slightly into him, brush his elbow or his hand – just enough to remind Stiles that Derek was the biggest cock-tease in the whole world.

“How’s your lessons going?” Reever asked, between mouthfuls of steak. Derek had outdone himself, Turkey, Steaks, fish – 4 different types of potatoes and Stiles had never seen so much veg in his life.

“Good.” Stiles grinned. “My History professor thinks I’m a wise ass, but I can tell he likes me.” When Reever and Isaac laughed, Stiles realised that they were talking about his **_other_** lessons.

“Oh! Yeah.” He grinned. “Those are crazy! You’ve got no idea what is going on there. I mean… I thought werewolves were like… it. And now I work for Bears, in a bar that’s got a dragon in the attic, an almost fully immortal clientele and some kind of God power dude in surf shorts hangin out. And occasionally, I work at this other bar, you know, if they need a human, and its run by fucking **_demons_** from another plane of existence. They have horns!” He added. “And they are so proud of their little hornies.”

“How about the whole… Harry Potter crap?” Jackson asked, mouth full.

“Well, I’ve pretty much got the basic stuff down, apparently I’m not half as awesome as I thought I was, because some of the guys can do this crap with their minds or whatever, and I need to draw runes and make herbal mixtures. But Doc Runningwolf is working me through a pretty intensive list of native American mixes – and then I’ll probably move on to the Inuit stuff after Christmas.” Stiles paused to take a drink of his coke. “I’m apparently an earth Shaman. Which is cool and everything, and I still get to do some pretty awesome work – but its kinda on the less powerful side.” The wolves were looking confused.

“But you saved Isaac’s life.” Reever said. “That’s pretty powerful!”

“Well… yeah. I’ll be able to do stuff like that, but I won’t be like… blowing shit up with my mind.”

“Thank god for that.” His dad said, “I’ve only just managed to finish the kitchen.”

* * *

 

Stiles had hoped to get Derek alone in the kitchen, but the Alpha had other plans – he’d roped Isaac and Reever into helping with the cleaning up. Unfortunately for Derek, Stiles didn’t really see the two of them as much of a barrier to making out. As soon as his dad was sitting comfortably on one of the overstuffed leather chairs Derek had pulled in close to the couch, Stiles had his arms around the Alpha, pushing him against the cupboard doors.

Derek was still that little bigger than him, a little taller and a little broader – just enough that Stiles needed to angle is his head slightly upward to put his lips on the Alphas. Derek’s surprised huff of air as Stiles pushed him back was **_so_** worth it. It wasn’t pretty, teeth clashing and the mixed tastes of too much food, but when Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles it was like coming home at last.

Isaac and Reever were loading up the dishwasher and chatting away as through nothing was going on – just walking around them as Stiles got down to making out with the hottest guy on the east coast. He’d missed Derek, missed everything about him, and no matter how many late night calls Stiles made, the guy still wasn’t good at talking. Phone sex was out. Skyping was an utter failure because the camera on his laptop kept hitting his retina and the glare just made the capture white out. Stiles only had a few seconds before Derek took over, pushing Stiles back so that his backside was pressed against the large oak table.

“We’re not done clearing that.” Isaac said, as Derek lifted Stiles and sat him on the edge. “Give us a chance.”

Derek didn’t respond, just stepped closer into Stiles body, who was now at the perfect height to kiss Derek fully. Opening his legs so that Derek could come even closer, Stiles couldn’t help the little moan that escaped his lips as their bodies mashed together. This was **_perfect_**.

Derek pulled his head back and started tracing kisses down the side of Stiles neck, stopping when he realised Stiles was wearing a turtleneck jumper.

“Can you take this off?” He practically whined. Stiles didn’t need to be told twice, the jumper was off and thrown half way across the floor, landing in a heap by the trashcan. Derek latched on to the side of his neck like a man starved, nuzzling and licking.

“You said we weren’t allowed to scent him till he got settled.” Reever complained. Stiles looked over at her, Derek’s mouth still working its magic.

“I’ll be staying the night.” He managed, before Derek found that magic spot behind his ear and the power to talk left him. Jesus, he’d missed this man so fucking much!

“Good.” Reever grinned. “We’ll just jump you later then?”

Stiles just groaned in reply.

* * *

 

If his dad wondered why it took 4 people so long to clean the kitchen, or why Stiles had a dreamy grin on his face when they all walked back through, he wisely didn’t bring it up.

Derek sat in the middle of the sofa, his Betas scrambling for a decent spot beside him. Stiles won it though, because he just climbed on top of Derek and made himself a little nest between his legs, lying back on his chest. Isaac put his head on Stiles lap and pulled Reever into the world’s most comfortable spoon – Scott pushing his legs under everyone and his head under Jacksons arm. Erica and Boyd were on the other side of Derek, snuggled into his arm and almost purring contentedly. Mellissa and his dad looked slightly awkward, on their brown leather chairs, but Stiles was so warm and happy that he was back where he belonged that he may have selfishly overlooked that his dad might not be comfortable with the seating arrangements. It only took a few minutes of the holiday special TV show to send Stiles to sleep, Derek’s chin resting on the top of his head.

* * *

 

He was woken by his dad, a small shake to the knee that was meant only to wake him but had the effect of startling 7 werewolves into instant alert.

“I’m going to drive Mellissa home.” He said, backing off slightly from the growling pile of bodies.

“You can stay here.” Derek said, only a slight hint of the wolf in his tone. “There are rooms for you.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“We put sheets and stuff down already.” Erica yawned. “Be a waste not to use em.”

“I’ll show you to the rooms.” Derek said, pushing Stiles up and untangling his arm from around Scott and Boyd. “Everyone else is going to bed now anyway.”

* * *

 

Stiles was pulling on his awesome yellow and black batman pyjama bottoms when Reever and Erica full body tackled him to the bed. Shirtless and taken by surprise, he was flat on his back and straddled before he knew what was going on.

He knew his dad wasn’t quite settled in his room, and the last thing he needed was for his dad to walk in on **_this_** – it was hard enough explaining Derek. “I missed you.” Erica breathed into his neck, licking and nuzzling.

“I missed you too.” He replied, instantly. Always agree with the werewolf with their mouth over your jugular, he was sure that was in his notes somewhere.

There was a porno that started like this – two seriously hot chicks licking some random guy – but he couldn’t put his finger on the name of it. Crap like that pissed him off, he had a good memory.

“I’ve never seen you with your shirt off.” Reever said, “You need a tan.”

“Coming from little miss ‘white as a ghost’?” He laughed.

“I’m a red-head! We’re naturally pale!” She said, punching him in the solar plexus. He gave an exaggerated ‘Oft’ which made her giggle against his neck.

“S’nice though.” Erica said, running her hand down his torso. Well, touchy feely Erica hadn’t changed. Thank God Stiles had become accustomed to **_that_** before he’d left. A boner would not be cool right then. “Gym?”

“Work.” He smiled. “And Talon has been teaching me a few different combat techniques to keep me safe.”

“Oh! We’ll have to have a little sparring session, then!” Reever enthused, sitting up.

“Sure.” He nodded. “I’ve not had a tiny ginger beat me up for months.”

Isaac wandered through, in dark green checked cotton sleep trousers. Stiles looked at Reever, in her matching shirt. “Do you guys’ co-ordinate?” he asked, grinning. Erica started to laugh, a rich throaty sound that he’d always liked (when she wasn’t laughing at him).

“I know, right?” She said. “Seriously, you think they can’t get any more co-dependent and then you see this crap. It makes me ill.”

Isaac had only just climbed on the bed when Jackson and Scott appeared via the bathroom. “We thought you’d be in your own room.” Scott explained, pulling Erica off. “Boyd wanted you downstairs.” He said, climbing on the bed.

“Boyd can fuck off.” Erica snapped. “I’ve only had him a little while. Wait your damn turn.”

“I’m right here.” Stiles complained, Isaac and Reever trying to lick the same spot on his neck at the same time. Stiles wasn’t sure if they were **_using_** him to make out with each other or what. They’d both always skirted the line between ‘this is normal’ and ‘this is turning us on’.

Derek growled from the doorway, still fully clothed. “Everyone, out.”

“No.”

“Fuck you!”

“You’ve already had him!”

“This is fucking **_balls_** , Derek.”

“It’s okay,” Stiles grinned. “I’m staying for a week. They can stay for the one night.”

 

 


	19. Chapter 19

Stiles threw another punch, hitting the bag suspended from the ceiling with a solid smack that vibrated up his arm. He was already soaked with sweat, his old lacrosse shorts sticking to his skin. No one else was awake – he’d managed to slip out of bed and leave the slumbering wolves undisturbed. This was his best time, first thing in the morning, before the rest of the world woke up.

His arms were tingling, that familiar feel of muscle repairing and healing as he pushed himself harder, throwing punches left and right until his lungs started to burn. Pausing for air, Stiles reached for the shake he’d made in the large kitchen and looked around as he fought the urge to gag. Some herbs should never be mixed – unfortunately, it was the best way of healing, no matter how disgusting it tasted.

Around him, the basement was brightly lit, a massive amount of floor space housed a sparring ring, free weights, punch bags, thick ropes suspended from the ceiling and you could tell by the smell in the air – a pool.

This was the wolves area, Stiles had never really used anything here before – he’d normally sit on the side watching as Derek put his Betas through training and sparring lessons. Three months made a lot of difference, he felt confident enough to use the space as an equal.

Sweat and blood rushing to his muscles had given his skin a pink glow, the only time it was possible to see the tattoos covering his upper body. Most of the other ‘pupils’ that Runningwolf taught had opted for the heavy black lines, Runes scrawled over their bodies giving them a tribal look, but Stiles (aware that his dad might have a seizure if he came back covered in ‘goth’ tattoos) had asked for the almost invisible cream coloured ink.

He no longer needed to scrawl biro over his body to protect himself – although he still kept a pen in his back pocket in case. Old habits die hard.

The movement of air behind him alerted to another person, but Stiles knew that in this space, in this house, no one could harm him – he could see the faint blue glow of Runes over the floor, his magic appearing only to him.

“What is this?” Derek asked, touching his back with a soft hand. He ran a finger over the markings Stiles knew he could see clearly now.

“Protection.” Stiles said, turning around. He put the empty glass down beside his training shoes – he was too hot to wear anything but his shorts, even with the pool keeping the air crisp. “Simple stuff, but that’s the best kind.” He smiled, Derek looked sleep tousled and heartbreakingly gentle – he hadn’t yet shaved, or showered, he still had that ‘back to bed’ ease in his body that suggested he could easily fall back to sleep if Stiles suggested it. “I need to shower.” He said, “Sorry, I must stink.”

Derek laughed – one of the few times Stiles had actually heard a genuine laugh from his sourwolf – and pulled Stiles closer. “You have no idea.” He grinned, running his hand down Stiles damp back. “It woke me up.”

Stiles wrinkled his nose – gross! He smelled so bad that he’d actually woken up Derek? – but the wolf didn’t seem to think it was a **_bad_** smell, not the way he was pulling Stiles closer, pupils blown large and the tell-tale red tinge around the edges.

When he kissed Stiles, it was slow – warm and lazy, nothing like their previous make-out sessions. Stiles smiled, arms wrapping around Derek’s waist and loving the feel of the Alphas bare skin pressed against his. Derek’s hands were pressed firmly against his back, but not as tight or desperate as normal, just a comfortable pressure that was, Stiles realised, the closest thing to a real hug Derek had ever given him. It was nice, familiar and comforting; Stiles found himself smiling under Derek’s lips, the slight itch of the wolf’s stubble on his chin. He wasn’t expecting Derek to slide his hands lower, running down the dip in his back and under the elasticated waist of his lacrosse shorts to rest on his ass. Stiles felt hot, sweat still forming on his skin, as Derek flexed his hands, gently massaging. He deepened the kiss, changing it from a comforting warmth to something much darker. Stiles gripped Derek’s back tighter, loving the defined feel of muscle and strength under his palms. Derek used his grip on his ass to rock Stiles hips forward at the same time the Alpha ground his hips forward. Stiles was surprised to feel Derek was already fully hard – normally the wolf would take a little longer to get himself to his full size – making Stiles feel like his own cock was on a hair trigger. Derek moaned something into his mouth, his hot breath filling Stiles lungs as he spoke. Stiles pulled his head back. “Use your words.” He grinned, his own hands slipping under Derek’s cotton sleep shorts, clutching at the firm muscles of the Alpha’s backside. Damn – the dude was made of rock and steal. Derek groaned, crushing his mouth against Stiles again, his words lost in the action. All Stiles could make out that it might have been a question – and hell, he wasn’t about to agree to something if he wasn’t damn sure what it was.

“Words.” He said again, pulling back. “Use them.”

“Want to mark.” Derek said, pulling back and not quite looking Stiles in the eye. Stiles wondered if he was embarrassed. Isaac had already explained this – the marking – it was like a bite, was always about sex, and was a sign of ownership to other wolves. ‘This one is mine, back off’. Stiles knew Derek could bite him, his Shaman blood would actively fight off the change from Human to Werewolf – he was immune – but he didn’t like the idea of belonging to Derek, if Derek didn’t belong to him.

So he pulled Derek closer, snuggling his head against the Alphas neck – and sunk his teeth into the wide muscle of the wolfs shoulder as hard as he could.

Blood filled his mouth as Derek howled – dear god, he really **_howled_** – and sharp teeth clamped around his neck. Stiles could do nothing but hold on to Derek with both hands and his teeth still sunk into the Alphas shoulder as the pain ripped through him. _This was a bad idea_ he thought too late, as searing and tearing bolts of agony lanced through him. Derek had shifted – his ‘were teeth too sharp and ripping through the muscle of Stiles neck. Blood pooled in his mouth, Stiles panicked, swallowing on instinct.

It wasn’t his blood. He knew the moment it hit the back of his throat and his world tilted. Derek groaned still not letting go of the death grip he had on Stiles neck – Stiles wondered if he was even **_aware_** of the danger.

Then, instantly, between one heartbeat and the next, there was no pain. Stiles eyes snapped open. Derek was licking his neck, teeth fully gone, making soft, pleased noises. Stiles brought a hand up to his neck, trying to fight the weak sensation that normally came with passing out. There was no ripped skin, no mark of teeth or any hint that he had broken skin.

“That really fucking hurt.” He growled, pushing Derek back with both hands. The Alpha flew back like a rag doll, landing a few feet away, sprawled in a mess of arms and legs, blood still wet on his face and Stiles bloody teeth marks in his shoulder. Around him the smells of the room danced across his eyes – he had taken too much blood, swallowed a whole mouthful, more that he had ever taken from Derek before.

Derek pushed to his feet, gracefully, concern on his face. “What?” He asked, bewildered.

“It hurt.” Stiles hissed, stalking forward, blood roaring in his ears and clouding his brain. Derek smelled good, like power and sex and **_Stiles_** – and he knew what he wanted. Stiles leaped at the Alpha, crashing into his body and rolling them both heavily on the floor, until Stiles grabbed Derek by the shoulders and slammed him back to the floor, straddling his hips.

“I’m the Alpha.” Derek said, eyes red, teeth lengthening.

“I don’t **_care_**.” Stiles growled, pinning Derek to the ground and kissing him roughly. Making out while high on Derek’s blood was something that Stiles had always wanted to do, but he was not expecting the difference to be so… intense. The Alpha kissed him back, but continued to struggle for dominance. Derek was used to his abilities, whereas Stiles was quickly overtaken by the sensations flowing through his body – a quick flip and he was on his back, Derek bucking forward as his hands pulled at the shorts Stiles wore.

The cooler air on his cock only caused him to shiver under Derek, and the Alpha used one hand to keep his back pressed into the floor and the other to pull down his own shorts. He could hear gasps and growls, unsure if it was Derek or himself, before he realised it was both.

Stiles had never been naked with another person, and there was so much he wanted to do, feel, touch and experience – but his body was screaming at him, he could not control himself. “Need.” He gasped, as Derek pressed his fully naked body against Stiles, the searingly hot touch of the Alphas erection tangling with his own. “God, need!” He growled, bucking and desperate.

“Stiles, slow down.” Derek ground out, trying to keep Stiles shoulders pressed into the floor. “Slow down. Breathe.” But Derek’s voice was ragged and stressed, control obviously slipping from his fingers. Stiles saw the advantage, and pushed up with all his strength. Once again, the Alpha was on his back, Stiles leaning over him. This time though, Derek was shaking. Under the weight of Stiles, he pushed his knee up, hooking the back of Stiles leg and using one hand to grab his own cock, pumping furiously. “Do it.” He groaned, lifting his ass off the ground. Stiles looked down at him in confusion for a moment, unsure exactly what Derek was telling him to do. Derek must have smelt his confusion, because he pulled Stiles down for a seriously hot kiss, teeth clashing and tongues dancing. When he finally pulled away, Stiles was gasping for air and desperate for release. Derek held up his hand to Stiles mouth. “Spit.” He said, leaning up on his elbow to do the same. Stiles did as he was told, confusion on his face, until Derek wrapped the saliva covered hand around Stiles throbbing cock. He hissed out a long breath of air, the touch nearly sending him over the edge. When Derek removed his hand to spit again, Stiles finally managed to get his brain to catch up with the rest of him. Spitting on his own hand, Stiles coated his fingers liberally in his saliva, sliding them under Derek’s balls – tight to his body. He slid a finger in almost immediately; Derek’s full body jerk and surprised gasp making him shiver with nerves and excitement. All he could smell was sex, hot and sticky, gold and red around his vision – and Derek gasping for air as he fisted his own cock under him. Stiles worked quickly, not knowing how long either of them was going to last, pushing one finger deeper until Derek begged him for more. Another liberal mouthful of saliva and Stiles pushed two fingers into Derek’s tight ass. “Do it!” Derek whined, pumping on his cock franticly, precum coating the length of him and sliding over Stiles stomach.

Stiles adjusted his position and pushed the head of his cock, wet with saliva and thick precum, against the tight opening. Derek growled, eyes red and claws digging into Stiles thigh as the head of Stiles cock pushed. The sensation was strange, alien and familiar all at the same time – Stiles growled, voice tinged with the altered blood that **_really_** made it sound like a growl – and thrust forward, stopping only when he was fully inside the Alpha, the tight ring of his ass clenching against the base of Stiles cock like a vice. Derek groaned, the sound bringing Stiles back from his own pleasure for a moment.

“Are you okay?” He managed, teeth grinding together from the strain of not moving. He wasn’t sure if the sound Derek made was good or bad. He had lost a bit of his hard on, both hands holding onto Stiles thighs tightly, so Stiles reached down and wrapped his hand around Derek’s cock. With each tug, Derek let out a desperate gasp, his inner muscles milking Stiles still deep inside him. After a few minutes, Stiles was sure he was going to cum just from the sensation and sight of Derek watching him. Then the Alpha reached up, grabbing Stiles and pulling him down for another searing kiss – and causing Stiles cock to slid slightly inside of him. Derek’s teeth scraped at his lip, pulling and drawing blood as Stiles pushed back fully inside Derek’s tight hole. The Alpha groaned, and Stiles knew that sound wasn’t a bad one, as he flexed his hips with a snap.

Derek urged him on as Stiles started to slide in and out of him – growls and gasps mixing in the air around them. Stiles was lost to the sensation, his own pleasure taking over any thought of Derek’s enjoyment. The touch, smell – hell, even the sound – of their sex was all consuming. It wasn’t until Stiles felt the warm splash of Derek’s cum coat his stomach that he felt his own balls tighten, slamming into Derek harder and harder until, with a shattered growl, he found his own release, riding it out until he finally collapsed on top of the Alpha, boneless and weak.

* * *

 

Stiles stood under the hot spray of the shower as the jets pummelled his body. Derek had brought him back upstairs, half carrying him, half dragging. Stiles wasn’t sure if he was going to pass out or throw up – his body shaking and spasming. Derek had panicked, pulled Stiles phone out of his bag and called Runngingwolf. Stiles could hear the conversation as though he was in the room with them.

“He’s shaking, he’s got a fever and his eyes are glowing gold.”

“Has he taken your blood?”

“Yes.”

“More than normal?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t worry about it. He’ll be high for a few days. Watch out for any dangerous behaviour, but he will be much more… affectionate… during this time.”

“Oh.”

* * *

 

Stiles wasn’t ready to leave the shower when Derek walked back through. The hot water was bliss on his skin, steam swirling around his head in a cloud of warmth and colours. He could see rainbows in the air. Derek had made sure his shower was top of the line, with so many jets and features that Stiles hadn’t really been sure what buttons to press. The glass door slid open, cold air rushing in as clouds of coloured steam billowed out.

“Shut it!” He groaned, pulling away from the draft. Derek stepped in, and hit a few more buttons, spray shooting out from the other side of the shower as well. Trust Derek to have a two man shower installed. For a few minutes, Stiles was happy just to stand under the spray and watch as Derek scrubbed at his skin, the bite marks on his shoulder had not yet healed and he had a few bruises on his back from where Stiles had slammed him to the floor. They were both still hard – Stiles had tried to jerk himself off in the shower, but he was still just as hard. Derek seemed to just ignore his as he washed his hair. With the worst smelling stuff Stiles had ever had the misfortune to be in the same space as.

“What the hell is that?” He said, screwing up his nose. Derek turned, one hand still in his hair.

“Tar Soap.” He said. “I’ve always used it. My dad used it.”

“It stinks.”

“It grows on you.” Derek said, and Stiles saw his smile through the steam. He held out his hand and pulled Stiles forward, a foamy shampoo halo on his head. The kiss was gentle, familiar and comforting. When Derek pulled back, he grinned – a relaxed, open smile that made Stiles want to cry. The only time he’d ever seen Derek so relaxed the Alpha had been sleeping.

The rest of the wolves were waking up, Stiles could hear the complaints as they tried to untangle themselves from each other. “What the fuck is that smell?” Jackson groaned as he yawned.

“Stiles.” Erica mumbled, she sounded like she still had her face mashed into the pillow.

“I just don’t understand why he gets to smell so good.” Jackson complained.

Derek went back to washing his hair, which made the muscles on his upper back and shoulders do quite wonderful flexing – Stiles couldn’t help but run his hands over them.

“You’d better get washed.” Derek said, handing Stiles the hideous smelling shampoo bottle. “Your dad is going to be awake soon, and we’re going to have to explain the eyes.”

* * *

 

The pack was still lounging on the bed when Derek and Stiles left the bathroom. Isaac and Reever were in the middle of a full blown make-out session, the other Beta’s unconcerned by the display. “Do that in your own room.” Derek said to them, towel wrapped low around his hips as he pulled open a drawer. “There are rules about sex in communal places.”

He handed Stiles a pair of his tight black boxers, jeans and a grey long sleeve tee – and pulled out an almost identical set of clothes for himself.

“You can’t talk.” Erica grinned, “You think we can’t smell the gym from here?” And Stiles felt his face burn.

“Shut up, Erica.” Derek said, dropping the towel to pull on his clothes. Stiles marvelled at the easy way he just didn’t give a shit that his Betas saw he was still hard, or that he was only just starting to heal the bruises on his back, he just pulled on his clothes like it was the most natural thing in the world. Stiles went back into the bathroom to change.

* * *

 

“So… you **_finally_** did it then?” Isaac said, sitting on the outside step of the Hale house. His dad was inside with the rest of the Betas, watching the football. Reever was sleeping off the marathon sex her and Isaac had gone through – finally leaving Derek’s room for their own only after he threatened to kill them both. 

“Yup. I lost my virginity to Derek Hale.” Stiles said, proudly. “And not in the way I was expecting either.”

“About time too.” Isaac smiled.

“Yup.” He said, breathing in the fragrant forest air. “I love this place.” He said, wrapping his arm around Isaacs waist and cuddling in. “It’s lovely. Smells amazing.” Isaac nuzzled him back, nodding.

“Are you going to come home when you are done with school?” He asked, head leaning on Stiles shoulder.

“Yeah.”

“Reever and I are going to set up at Deatons. And when he leaves his practice, we’re going to buy it off him.”

The door had opened behind them, and Stiles could smell Jackson easily. He’d stopped wearing that stupid aftershave, and (rather oddly) had the sweetest blue scent Stiles had seen so far. Almost turquoise.

“You’re going to buy Deaton’s?” He scoffed, closing the door and sitting down by Stiles. “With **_what_** money?”

“We have a plan.” Isaac said. “Derek is paying for school, so the money from my dad’s house’ll pay for most of it, and Reever has a small savings account. It’ll be difficult, but I think we can do it.”

“Oh.” Jackson said, looking at his feet. “Still,” He added, “Sucks to be you.” Stiles giggled at Jacksons put out tone. “You still high?” Jackson said, nudging him in the ribs.

Stiles nodded, unwrapping one arm from Isaac and slipping it around Jackson, pulling him closer. “What about you? Are you coming back?”

“Fuck no.” Jackson growled. “Why the hell would I come back **_here_**?”

Stiles didn’t say anything. He’d spent a lot of time on the phone with Jackson who was (even though he’d rather chew off his own leg than admit it) very homesick.

“ ** _We’re_** here.” Isaac pouted.

“That’s a good enough reason to stay away.”

“Scott’s mom says that the paediatric surgeon at the hospital is nearing retirement.” Stiles said, moving his head to one side so Jackson could nuzzle the inside of his neck. “You could do that.”

“Hate kids.” Jackson replied. He’d said that on the phone to Stiles too – only to then go on about the one’s he’d spent time with for the rest of the call.

“Something to think about, though.” Was all Stiles said.

“Whatever. Shut up so I can smell you.”

“I thought we could go for a run.” Stiles said, half-heartedly pushing Jackson and Isaac away.

“Just us?” Jackson said, lifting his head.

“Just us.”

“Let’s go.”

* * *

 

When they returned it was dark, and Stiles was thrumming with energy. Jackson and Isaac had taken turns in chasing him through the vast forest, Stiles wouldn’t have minded – but every time they caught him, they’d pin him down and scent him. He was returning home covered in leaves, mud and werewolf spit – Derek wasn’t going to be happy.

When they tumbled through the door though, Derek just told them to shower before dinner – the leftovers from the day before.

His dad didn’t say anything when Jackson grabbed him from behind and licked his neck, causing Stiles to squirm and the Betas on the couch to laugh, but Stiles could tell he wasn’t sure what was going on. Probably thought it was some kind of gang-bang thing.

Stiles was stepping out of the shower when Derek walked into the bathroom, smelling like food and sex. Stiles forgot all about his towel and the fact that he was dripping wet and threw himself at the Alpha, who managed to keep his balance as Stiles crashed into him.

“I came to tell you dinner was ready.” Derek said, in-between Stiles kisses. He didn’t make any move to pull away though. “You’d better get changed.”

“I don’t think anyone will mind if we’re late.”

“We won’t be late.” Derek said, “If you keep this up we won’t be **_there_**.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Your dad hasn’t spent any time with you.” Derek reminded him.

“I haven’t spent any time with **_you_** , either.”

“Clothes. Food. Parent.” Derek said, in between kissing Stiles. “Now.”

* * *

 

“Everyone out.” Stiles said from the bedroom door. Boyd and Scott were already half asleep.

“Come on!” Jackson said. “We slept here last night!”

“Yeah, and tonight I’d quite like to sleep without your dragon breath and Scott snoring.” Stiles grinned. “You’ve all got rooms. Use em!”

* * *

 

Derek was lying on top of the covers, the expression on his face unreadable. Stiles hated the ugly grey sweatpants he wore – and although that white vest made him look like the very **_best_** bad boy in the world – Stiles still hated it.

“You are wearing **_far_** too many clothes.” He said, climbing on the bed and straddling Derek’s hips. The wolf smiled as Stiles pulled off his own t-shirt – another of Derek’s that he’d stolen after his shower, pulling Stiles down for a very long kiss before releasing him. Stiles tugged at the white vest and grinned when Derek, obviously frustrated by Stiles slow pace, flipped him backwards, landing with a soft thump on the mattress and sliding between Stiles legs with intent.

Pulling of his vest and kicking off those hideous sweatpants in one fluid movement made Stiles well aware of the seriously sexy skills the man had. Stiles figured if he’d tried that he would have ended up tangled and in a heap, not flexing hips and trailing kisses.

Which Stiles was perfectly okay with. It would be unfair to the universe if they were both stupidly insanely, wonderfully perfect specimens of man-wolf-ness.

It would end the world. Probably.

Derek kissed his neck while working Stiles jeans down, fingers tracing the trail of hair that disappeared under Stiles borrowed boxers, causing him to suck in a breath and arch his back into the wolfs body.

Stiles gripped Derek’s shoulders for support as he lifted his ass so the wolf could finally free him from the denim, blunt finger nails digging into skin and muscle. Once free of the constricting denim, Derek lifted Stiles bodily and flipped him over so his head was resting on the pillows. Stiles hardly had time to huff a breath of surprise when Derek covered his mouth with an insistent and hot kiss. Their bodies rocked and clashed against each other, Derek pushed a hand between them, closing around Stiles cock and fisting gently, causing Stiles to moan and mutter incoherent ramblings.

Derek reached over to the bedside cabinet and pulled open the drawer, searching around blindly until he found what he was looking for. It took Stiles lust addled brain a few seconds to figure out what exactly Derek was doing until he felt the wolf press a lubed finger against his ass.

“Oh, sweet fucking Christ.” Stiles gasped, shock at the intrusion making him try to buck away from him.

Derek kissed him, but didn’t stop pushing until his finger was fully inside Stiles. “You trying to kill me?” He gasped, under Derek’s mouth.

“Just a little.”

“A little more wouldn’t suck.” Stiles said, rocking slightly. Derek grinned, kissing him and trailing a line down his jaw and nuzzling his neck with open mouthed wet kisses. He slid another finger in, slower this time, until Stiles groaned under him.

He could feel Derek gently trying to scissor inside him, stretching him. It was uncomfortable, but not painful  - he was quickly getting used to the sensation. He wasn’t sure if Derek knew, or if he was just progressing things along... but Stiles felt him slide a third finger in. “More lube would be **_awesome_**.” He managed, through clenched teeth.

Derek though, didn’t make the move to add more, simply continued on opening Stiles more. “You’ll be okay.” He said, teeth scraping along the tendon in Stiles neck.

There was a moment, a feeling of Derek pulling away, before Stiles knew what was happening, he was face down. This was the start of so many of Stiles late night fantasies that he couldn’t help the grin that played on his lips. Derek was moving over him, covering his back, and pushing against him.

Stiles sucked in a breath as he felt Derek push his cock against his opening. At first, it was okay – but after a few inches, Stiles started to gasp for air – Derek was much, much larger than three fingers, no matter how much lube he was using. Stiles gripped the sheets, pushing his face into the pillow. Derek was groaning, hands holding onto Stiles shoulders as he pushed further and further into the very core of Stiles body.

Derek finally stopped when he was fully inside of him, head resting on the middle of Stiles back. Neither of them moved for several minutes. It wasn’t until Stiles could breathe normally again that Derek lifted his head. “Are you okay?” He asked, voice strained.

“Oh, yeah.” Stiles groaned. “Just hanging out, you know?”

Derek let out a huff of air that tickled the small hairs on the back of Stiles neck. The Alpha gently rubbed his shoulders, a comforting gesture that made Stiles smile despite the discomfort. Derek leaned forward and kissed Stiles on the neck, the slight motion causing Derek to twitch inside of him. It wasn’t painful, wasn’t bad – just... strange. He flexed his hips under the wolf, and the pulling ache was... perfect.

Pretty much everything was perfect. The groan that left Derek's lips was worth any amount of discomfort. When Derek started to rock his hips into him, Stiles had to bite the pillow to stop from calling out – the feeling of being stretched to the fullest was almost too much to take. After a few rough rotations though – things started to get much, **_much_** more interesting.

Stiles had lost some of his erection with the discomfort of penetration, but whatever Derek was doing it was hitting all the right spots now – He let out a groan of pleasure. When Derek reached his hand around Stiles to match each long, slow thrust with a gentle pull on Stiles cock, he knew he was lost.

* * *

 

Stiles woke to the feel of Derek pulling out of his spent and exhausted body. They had fallen asleep after the fourth (or was it the fifth?) time, Derek not leaving Stiles body, just collapsing on top of him and closing his eyes.

“Not again.” He moaned. There was no way he could go again. Everything hurt.

“No.” Derek said, rolling onto his back and pulling Stiles into his arms. “I don’t think I could.” Stiles wasn’t so sure – his Alpha had said that the third (fourth?) time and he managed just fine.

“What time is it?” He mumbled into Derek’s (very fine) chest.

“Almost 7.”

“I’m not going to be able to move, if you’re expecting me to go downstairs without collapsing, you’ve got another thing coming.” Stiles said, eyelids heavy. Jesus, they’d been at it all night. He doubted even Isaac and Reever could top that.

“No. I think we’ll spend the whole day right here.” Derek agreed. “Your dad can have you tomorrow.”

* * *

 

“I’ll be back for Christmas.” Stiles was saying, hugging his dad. “It’s not that far away.”

And this time, he didn’t care that his dad was right there, or that Reever was crying, he wrapped his arms and legs around his sourwolf and made damn sure that he got his goodbye kiss.

 

 


	20. Chapter 20

Stiles loved his job at the bar, loved everything about it – From the crappy music to the flickering lights, the watered down booze for the humans and the near enough poisonous drinks for the actual clientele, he loved it.

He was pretty good friends with Wren, who everyone else seemed to avoid, but he reminded Stiles of Derek – they were both too quiet, too ready to resort to violence and a bit misunderstood. He had a pet monkey – Stiles thought he was the coolest guy in the world. He wasn’t sure what Wren thought of him, but he didn’t actively try to avoid him, so that was something, right?

And to make everything even cooler, tomorrow was his last day of work before Christmas. And Christmas meant Dad, Derek and Decking the Halls. Stiles fucking loved Christmas!

* * *

  
 

Derek picked him up from the Airport – Stiles had over bought (again) and had needed to pay for his excess baggage. Making Derek promise not to look in the bags as he hauled them off the revolving belt, Stiles wished he’d had time to wrap everything before he’d left. He was going to have to find a secret place to get it all done – and in a house full of nosey werewolves that was going to be near enough impossible.

They ended up arriving home later than Stiles expected, but Stiles could scratch ‘making out with Derek in the Camaro’ off his bucket list.

His dad was already there when they pulled up, the lights in the house showing the warm, family scene as Stiles looked through the glass walls. His dad was decorating the massive tree with Mellissa McCall – and Stiles through Derek a ‘what the hell?’ look.

“They arrived yesterday.” Derek said, opening the trunk and grabbing Stiles bags. “They’ve been spending a lot of time together recently.”

“Like... dating?” Stiles wasn’t really sure how he felt about that. His dad had always just been so... devoted to his mom, the memory of his mom.

“Not sure.” Derek muttered, half dragging the bags. “They’re not having sex if that’s what you mean.”

“Oh.”

“Jackson brought less shit home than you.” He grumbled.

“Jackson probably didn’t buy everyone awesome presents.”

Derek kicked open the door with a snarl. “Stiles is home!”

* * *

 

Stiles was sitting in his own bedroom – the one that Derek had designed just for him. He’d locked the door to the shared bathroom and the door to the hallway and was carefully wrapping all the gifts he’d bought.

 For his dad, he’d asked Talon to make sure fishing lures. They were the coolest things Stiles had ever seen, and he’d got an awesome leather holder too, that all the Lures would slip into nicely. A few books on unsolved crimes with ties to the supernatural and a t-shirt from the university campus.

Isaac’s gifts, now wrapped and in a little pile – a new cover for his phone, a study planner, and a leather journal. Apparently Isaac kept a diary. Who knew?

Scott got a gun cleaning kit, a fluffy mascot teddy (cause it was awesome!) and a new alarm clock – because his dad had mentioned that Scott was forever running late in the mornings.

Erica got books – mostly on survival training and forest conservation. He hoped she liked them – it had taken him a long time to figure out what to get her.

Boyd got a multi-tool with a built in compass. According to the manual, it was the only thing you needed if you were camping.

For Jackson he got a gift card for the local coffee shop on campus (because every time he called Stiles he was there) and a collection of the best coffee grinds in New Orleans for the super expensive coffee maker Jackson had spent a fortune on in his dorm.

Reever got a doll that looked just like her. **_Just_** like her. The woman that made them had just handed him a Reever doll when he’d walked into the small shop. No charge. He’d never been so freaked out in his life. He hoped she liked it, cause there was no way he was keeping it.

For Melissa he’d got the most beautiful vase he’d ever seen. Sunshine (Runningwolfs daughter, and Talons wife) made and sold them.

And for Derek… For Derek he’d gotten a ‘UNO’ hoodie (in bright red) as a joke gift – along with a new leather jacket. Stiles loved the jacket. Loved it. He’d actually bought it for himself at first, but once he’d put it on he knew it would look so much better on his wolf. There were a few modifications too – unseen by normal eyes. The lining had been replaced, needed to be, after Stiles ripped the old one out and carefully drew runes on the inside of the leather. Protection, they matched the almost invisible tattoos on his skin.

He was pretty happy with what he’d bought, even if it had resulted in a late night wrapping session that was cutting down his time spent snuggled into a sleepy Derek.

* * *

 

“Thanks.” Jackson was saying, inhaling the coffee beans through the packaging. “Really. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Stiles grinned happily. In some houses, the opening of presents took place after dinner – but Stiles and Reever were not about to let that happen, they’d pouted and stomped their feet until they finally got their way.

Stiles had a great haul. His dad had gotten him a new laptop – much, much cooler than the old beat up one he’d been using since high school. Scott got one too – same make and model. The look that passed between their parents when they both opened the gifts was enough to convince Stiles that there was more going on between his Dad and Scott’s mom than they were letting on. Scott was oblivious.

Isaac had gotten him a leather bound journal a lot like the one he’d bought Isaac, which caused a lot of laughs. “For your spells and stuff.” Reever had gotten him a new backpack with extra pockets and a space to slide his new laptop in.

Jackson got him a red Harvard hoodie (“ _so people think you go to a **real** school”_ ) and a really nice pen. He wasn’t expecting the pen – he wondered if Jackson had actually out some through into his gifts, for all he was shrugging off their thanks.

Erica had gotten him some new t-shirts – even though she whispered that Derek hadn’t been happy at someone else buying him clothes, and Boyd got him an MP3 player for his car.

Derek though – Derek had gotten him a watch. He could tell by the way his dad looked a little taken-aback and the way Jackson whistled through his teeth that it cost a fortune, even if the quality hadn’t given it away. It showed the time in three different zones – and the cycles of the moon. On the back, Derek had it engraved with a triskalon. It fit him perfectly.

They had cake for breakfast and stayed in their pajamas until well after noon.

* * *

 

They were having dinner at a very fancy restaurant. Derek had told them in advance that he wasn’t cooking on Christmas, so had made reservations. Melissa, who had been to the restaurant Derek had booked once before (years and years ago! She’d laughed) had told them that if they thought they were showing up in jeans and hoodies she’d kill them all in very creative ways. Derek had bought his Betas clothes, so when Stiles pulled down the zipper of the bag, he wasn’t really sure what he was expecting.

He’d never worn anything designer before, not in his whole life – so once he’d pulled on his suit, he may have stood looking in the mirror for **_slightly_** longer than normal, just checking himself out. He looked great. Like, really, really great. Like 47 from Hitman. Whenever he moved, his watch would peek out from his cuff – Yeah, Stiles suited Armani.

The shoes though, sold it. He’d told Derek he hated dress shoes, so the wolf had gotten him a pair of black converse. Never mind 47… he looked like Robert Downey Junior. For real – He looked like a millionaire playboy. Stark!

He took one last look at himself in the mirror before leaving his bedroom. Jackson, Scott, Boyd and Isaac were already waiting. “Jesus, we look like we just stepped out of GQ or something.” Stiles grinned. Jackson looked like.. well.. Jackson, Isaac like a model, Boyd like any moment he was going to start quoting Othello, and Scott managed to look slightly less dopey. Dopey in a rich, privileged way.

“Reever threw me out of the room.” Isaac said. “I had to get dressed in the hall.”

“Erica did the same.”

“Well, at least you won’t embarrass me.” Jackson said, looking them over critically. Stiles heard foot falls on the stairs and turned to see Derek easily wandering over to them.

“ ** _Dear sweet merciful mother of Christ_**.” Stiles choked. Derek in a suit was not something Stiles was prepared to deal with. Ever. Good Lord, he may have just cum in his designer boxers. This was his boyfriend. His actual, real life, honest to god, boyfriend. Who he had sex with. Last night. Stiles brain was shutting down. Derek had no right to wear a suit if he knew that Stiles was not emotionally prepared to deal with his feels. Had he swooned? He felt like he swooned.

“You okay?” Jackson asked, nudging him in the ribs. “You sound like you’ve having a heart attack.”

“Nah, yeah, huh?” He mumbled, before seeing the amused look in Derek’s eyes. Asshole knew the effect he was having on Stiles hormones. Jerk. “Yeah, I’m okay. Nerves. Posh place, Melissa said.”

“Nice save.” Derek laughed. Good lord, he looked good enough to eat! Stiles was never going to be able to last the whole night if he had to look at that beautiful bastard over the table.

His dad was wearing his best suit too – although next to Derek and his Beta’s it looked a little dated. Next to Derek and his Beta’s, **_everything_** looked a little dated. Dudes were oozing sex.

The waited another half an hour on the girls. It was worth it, just to see the look on his dad’s face when he saw Melissa. Oh yeah, there was something going on there. Even Scott threw him a glance – and if Scott was noticing… **_something_** was up. Reever was wearing some kind of Greek looking toga wrap thing in cream, which should have looked idiotic, but she pulled it off like she was accepting an Oscar. Isaac had actually stopped breathing – poor Reever, she was going to have to find one hell of a wedding dress to top that.

Erica had a bright red, slashed to the thigh ‘should have looked like a hooker’ dress that made her look like the **_classiest_** woman Stiles had seen in a long time. He figured on anyone else it’d look trashy, but Erica could rock up in sweatpants and an oversized tee and still look perfect.

Melissa wore a forest green wrap dress that reminded Stiles that she wasn’t actually that old. If his dad was thinking about Scott’s mom… Stiles was old enough to understand. It really wasn’t because he didn’t love Stiles mom, but he’d like to think if anything ever happened to him, Derek would move on eventually. Like… years and years and years later. When was old. And grey. And had lost the abs. Yeah. **_Then_** he could move on. But not before then, or Stiles would haunt his sourwolf ass.

“So, we’re all ready?”

* * *

 

Stiles ordered the chicken. Or what he hoped was the chicken. The only thing on the menu he recognised was the soup. Luckily, he wasn’t the only one struggling – thank God for Melissa, who basically told Scott what to order. The wolves ordered Steaks, blue. **_Very_** blue. Gross. His dad’s was well done, and Melissa had ordered the fish. Maybe. Stiles wouldn’t know what he’d asked for till it was put on the table in front of him.

The place was lovely. Really, really lovely. There was actually a live band, or mini orchestra or something, playing away in the corner – soft violins and piano music filling the room. If this was a movie, Stiles thought, someone would be proposing.

Which was exactly what happened.

* * *

 

He wasn’t sure why he wasn’t expecting it – after all, there was never any doubt in his mind that Reever and Isaac were going to be together for the rest of their lives, but the sight of Isaac on one knee, holding a black velvet box and looking like the most adorable puppy Stiles had ever seen, had totally blindsided him.

Reever had been almost hysterically happy, sighs of shared emotion from the tables around them. They were young, beautiful and obviously in love. They were perfect together.

* * *

 

Stiles and Derek were the only people in the Hale house. It had never been so empty, hollow.

“Isaac and Reever will be staying at her parents until New Years,” Derek said, locking the front door and setting the alarm. Stiles wondered why he did that. Habit? No one in their right mind would try to break into this place. They’d get a pretty nasty shock if they did.

Erica, Boyd, Jackson and even Scott had all gone home to their parents. His dad had driven Scott and Melissa home in his cruiser. They had the house to themselves.

“Did you know?” Stiles asked, hands in the pockets of his suit trousers.

“Know what?”

“About Isaac asking Reever to marry him?”

“Yes.” Derek said, turning to face him. “You’ve been acting strange ever since we left the restaurant. Did you not like it?”

“No! I liked it! It was nice, you know, dressing up.” Stiles hurried. “It’s just… I can’t believe Isaac didn’t tell me.”

“He was pretty nervous.” Derek said, “Spent the last week or so throwing up. I don’t think he wanted anyone to know. The only reason he told me was I’m in control of the accounts for his savings – and he needed money for the ring.”

“I don’t even know why it bothers me.” Stiles admitted. “But it does.”

* * *

 

“I feel like everyone is growing up without me.” Stiles admitted, head resting on Derek’s shoulder. Sticky with sweat and lube, they were a tangled mess of limbs.

“You’re growing up without us.” Derek said, slowly.

“No I’m not!”

“You’ve grown nearly an inch. You’ve gained 10 pounds – you’ve got muscle where you used to have skin and bone.” Derek supplied. “I could go on.”

“That doesn’t count.” Stiles argued. “But thanks for noticing. I’ve been working my ass off for this ass, you know.”

“You’ve calmed down, evened out – you don’t smell like you used to.” Derek continued. “I don’t know how to describe it. Before you were stinking of green and pears, and now… it’s almost impossible to scent you. If you were standing in the forest, I wouldn’t be able to pick you out – and I’ve **_marked_** you. I should be able to pick you out in a sewer.”

“I do that on purpose.” Stiles said, tracing shapes on Derek’s stomach. “There are things in New Orleans that can smell power. I mask it to stay safe. It was the first thing Runningwolf taught me.”

“It’s like you’re not here, even when you are. I **_hate_** it.” Derek said, hand resting on Stiles head. “I just miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

“I didn’t think it would be this hard.”

“I know.” Stiles said, looking up. “But I love you.”

“I know.” Derek sighed, earning a punch from Stiles.

“You did not just Han Solo me, Jerk.”

Derek laughed as he kissed him.

* * *

 

Stiles was standing waist deep in the murky brown water of the swamp, trying not to think of whatever was in there with him. The air around him crackled blue fire, dancing over his skin and lighting up the night like a beacon. Behind him, Runningwolf was chanting – masking the run-off of power and magic that Stiles was generating, hiding him from unfriendly senses.

“You know, you look a little like the Human Torch.” Talon said from the dock – his cabin only a few feet away.

“Thanks.” Stiles said through gritted teeth. “It was the look I was going for.”

Talon laughed, an honest, open sound that reminded Stiles of home. “We need to get you some tights.”

“I don’t want involved in your kinky shit.” Stiles hissed. The effort to keep himself together was causing sweat to form over his skin – despite the cold water. “Sunshine would never forgive me for stealing her man.”

Talon laughed again, and in the distance, Stiles could hear something slither into the water. He really didn’t want to be standing in the bayou waters with gators swishing around his legs. He looked to Runningwolf, still chanting.

“Dude, I swear to god, Talon’s pet handbags are going to eat me.”

Runningwolf stopped his chants to look at Stiles. “How do you feel?”

“Exhausted. Cold. Hot.” Stiles muttered, looking at his hands and arms, blue fire still dancing over his skin. “Like I’m about to pass out.”

“Good enough.”  He said, “This should be getting easier, Stiles.”

“It’s not.”

Talon laughed as the fire flickered away and Stiles tried to pull his weak body out of the water. “I’m so glad you find my suffering an endless source of amusement.” He said, although there was no malice in his tone.

“Come on, mighty Shaman. I’ll give you a ride home.”

* * *

 

“What’s a pretty little kid like you doing in a place like this?” The biker asked. It wasn’t the first time tonight. Stiles was used to ignoring them. Funnily enough, the drunk bikers knew better to hit on the Bears. It wasn’t that Stiles minded being hit on, it was that he minded being hit on by the same type of guys. Drunk, overweight and **_always_** with the questionable hygiene.

“Just working,” Stiles said, picking up the glasses. His watch glinted in the dull lighting, three days till the full moon. If there was one thing he didn’t like – it was working near the full moon. People in this town got crazy – more crazy than normal, if that was even possible.

“That’s a nice watch.” The drunk slurred. “I bet you had to do a lot of **_nasty_** things for a watch like that.” Stiles skin crawled. He knew exactly what this sleaze was suggesting.

He manage to roll his eyes as he walked away. Wren gave him a glance – and it just showed what a difference a year could make, because Stiles knew what the guy was thinking. A mixture of shared annoyance and frustration. No one ever hit on Wren, people actively tried to **_avoid_** him, but he didn’t like it when people got up and personal with his friends.

“Long night.” He muttered as he passed Stiles. As far as Stiles was aware, it was the first time Wren had ever spoken to him without being prompted. Dude could have given Derek lessons in lurking.

“Fridays always are.”

* * *

 

Stiles was sitting on the step at the back of the bar, phone to his ear and a glass of water in his hand. Jackson was bitching again.

“It’s not my fault if he can’t hack it!”

“Yeah.” Stiles agreed. He always agreed with Jackson, it made their conversations easier.

“If you can’t stay away during your shift then you deserve to be replaced, right? I did that guy a favour.”

“You did.” Stiles said, taking a drink.

“Damn right I did. Fucking idiot. Anyway, break is over. Better get back to saving people.”

“Bye, Jackson. Miss you.”

“Whatever.” Was his reply, followed by a quick “You too.” Before the line went dead.

* * *

 

He sat in the café and drank his shake, occasionally taking a bite of his burger. Books were spread all around him, but the owner didn’t mind that Stiles took up so much space. He was often the only person in the place at this time of night. His phone was on the table, silent for the first time in hours. Scott must have fallen asleep.

Stiles desperately needed to sleep too – he’d finished his shift and although he had no classes at UNO on a Sunday, he knew Runningwolf wanted to go over his lessons for the week. He had a midterm paper due – and he’d been struggling to keep up with the pace for weeks. He was stressed to the max, even his shakes, herbs, teas and potions did nothing to sort his constant headache. The planters outside the window were full of brightly coloured blooms – he wondered if he had hayfever.

Strange though – the only planter with flowers growing was the one right outside his usual spot.

* * *

 

Stiles cradled the phone on his shoulder as Isaac chatted away about his classes. He was doing pretty well, from all accounts, much better than Reever who was struggling recently; even with all the extra help Isaac was able to give her.

“I just don’t think her heart is in it.” He was saying. “I’m worried she just came here because of me.”

“I’m sure she didn’t.” Stiles said. His head pounding, nearly a month of constant headaches was getting him down.

“What if she wanted to do something else and I just… didn’t **_know_**? I worry about her. She’s forgetful and really irritable, the other day she tripped.”

“People trip,” Stiles said, tone comforting. “I fall over all the time.”

“You’re not a werewolf. She shouldn’t be tripping over her own feet. Shouldn’t be sitting about dazed for hours at a time.” Isaac whined. “What if she’s sick?” He whimpered at the words as they left his mouth. Stiles could almost hear the Beta pale. “Oh my god! What if she’s sick?”

“She’s not sick.” Stiles comforted. “She’s fine.”

* * *

 

His headache wasn’t getting any better. He was starting to worry that maybe something was wrong – seriously wrong. He called Runningwolf, trying to keep his eyes closed against the glare from the screen.

“Stiles, it’s a bit late for you to call.”

“I’m really sorry, but I think something is wrong. My head is killing me. Like, really, killing me.” Another stab of pain made him groan.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

* * *

 

“The run-off isn’t working.” Runningwolf told him, wiping sweat from Stiles brow. “You must be generating some other kind of energy that isn’t able to burn out.”

“Like what?”

“I’m not sure.” He admitted. “It’s been a long time since someone like you needed training. You don’t get a lot of Shaman anymore.” Running wolf sighed. “They started becoming rarer when the forests…” He stopped, looking at Stiles strangely. “Your wolf – where does he live?”

“Beacon Hills. You know that.”

“In the town?”

“No. He’s got like huge plot of land in the woods.” Stiles said, holding the crushed ice and mint leaf pack to his head. “It’s in the middle of nowhere.”

“In a **_forest_**?”

“Yeah.” Stiles responded. “Why?”

“You’re an earth Shaman. The run-off has been fire. No wonder you find it hard to keep control.” Runningwolf slapped his head in a show of idiocy. “Run-off needs to be elemental.” He stalked off then, leaving Stiles sitting in the middle of the couch. He could hear the opening and closing of books, muttering and grumbling, then suddenly – “Ah!”

* * *

 

Stiles stood in the small garden that Runningwolf used to grow his own herbs and vegetables. “Think about the ground, the earth. Focus on that the same way you do when you think of the fire.”

Stiles nodded, closing his eyes and trying his best to change nearly a year of training his mind to think of flames. Runningwolf kept talking, a smooth, relaxing monologue.

Stiles felt his headache get worse, a throbbing, constant pain that made it difficult to think, and then – in a flash - it was gone. **_Totally_** gone. The breathe of relief felt like he’d been holding in too long. Stiles felt something soft and feathery brush his face. Snapping his eyes open, he looked around himself. The garden, which had been well maintained and neat before, was a mess. The grass was almost hip high; the sweet pea that had been clinging to the brick wall was so overgrown now that the leaves were brushing Stiles face. He could hardly see Runningwolf between the potted plants that had burst from the confines of their terracotta shells, spilling brown earth and white root, at least the height of a man.

“Well.” Runningwolf said, not sounding displeased that Stiles had just wrecked his garden. “You’ll never be able to stop time or move objects with your mind, but at least we know you’ll never starve.” He picked an overgrown leaf of mint – bigger than a dinner plate - and used it to fan himself.

* * *

 

“I’m pregnant.”

“Congratulations.” Stiles said, instantly.

“It’s not good news!” Reever cried down the phone. “I’m only 19! I’m not old enough to be a mom!”

“You’ll be a great mom.” Stiles soothed. “A little baby Isaac running about? A little ginger Isaac?” The words had the instant effect of making Reever giggle down the line.

“God, how cute would a little Isaac be?”

“Beyond cute. **_Impossibly_** cute.” Stiles said, wondering how well this news would go over with her parents, with Derek. Jesus, Isaac was going to **_die_**. “You know, no matter what happens, this is going to be the most spoiled kid in California, right?”

“Oh my god. My parents are going to kill me!”

* * *

 

The package was late. The package was **_never_** late. His monthly box of stuff from Derek was always on time. He was sitting on the steps of his dorm waiting for the mailman to arrive with his package, ignoring the sinking feeling that said maybe this month, Derek just hadn’t bothered putting a box together for him. After all, he’d been doing it for over a year. He probably didn’t think Stiles would miss it.

Because he was sitting waiting for the mailman, he saw the cab pull up. But because he was waiting for the **_mailman_** , he didn’t pay too much attention to the guy that climbed out the cab. Not until he saw the black leather.

“Derek?” Stiles yelled, jumping to his feet and breaking into a flat out run. “Derek!”

Stiles didn’t give a crap that people were milling around and he was acting like a chick in a really bad romantic movie, he flung himself at the wolf, wrapping his legs around Derek’s waist and arms around his neck. Stiles knew he was a good inch and a half taller than Derek now, but the Alpha was still broader, still stronger, still sex on two legs. He didn’t budge an inch when Stiles landed on him, just took his weight and sighed.

“I need to get my bag.”

“Oh my God! Derek! You’re here! You’re really here!” Stiles squeaked, still hanging on like an overgrown monkey.

“Yes. And I really need to get my bag.”

“Yeah. God! Okay!” Stiles said, remembering that they weren’t alone and Derek wasn’t super keen on PDA with people who weren’t in his pack. Probably an Alpha thing. He put his feet on the ground and pulled back a few inches, grinning like an idiot. “I can’t believe you’re actually here.” He repeated, as Derek paid the cab driver and pulled his bag out of the trunk. “Like, you’re standing right **_here_** – I can’t even tell you how happy I am to see you!”

“You don’t mind?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Stiles laughed, wrapping his arms around Derek again, just for a moment. Just to remind him that he was real. “I’ve never been so happy to see you in my **_life_**.”

* * *

 

“So this is my room.” Stiles said, waving his hand about the tiny space. “I wasn’t expecting anyone, so it’s a bit of a mess.”

Okay, so a bit of a mess was a **_slight_** understatement, with papers and books scattered all over the small room. Stiles felt Derek sigh. He hated when Stiles made a mess. “If you’d told me you were coming I would have cleaned. I promise.” He said, picking up a stack of books and putting them back on the small shelf.

“If I’d told you I was coming it wouldn’t have been a surprise.”

“No.” Stiles said, turning around to face his wolf. “It wouldn’t have been half as good as seeing you get out that taxi.”

“You didn’t even recognise me.”

“I was looking for the mail. Not…” He grinned. “A male.”

Derek rolled his eyes at the lame joke, before pulling Stiles in closer. “You are wearing a lot of clothes.”

“I can fix that.” Stiles grinned, kissing Derek urgently. “I can fix that.”

\--

 

 

 


	21. Chapter 21

Derek found himself smiling as he lay in the tiny bed beside a soundly sleeping Stiles. He had been nervous about showing up unexpectedly, worried that he might be intruding on a part of Stiles life that he wanted to keep separate from Derek and the Pack. He was human – he was able to keep parts of his life secret, hidden.

The smell of the room was soothing, the scent of Stiles so strong it was almost overpowering. Derek smiled sadly, back in the Hale house, very few things kept his scent now. He’d been gone for so long that even the clothes carefully folded in the drawers had lost it, mingling with the other smells of the house. That was why he’d arrived unannounced. He’d walked into their room to find it only held traces of his wolves, and not his… Stiles.

Stiles mumbled in his sleep, drawing closer to Derek, hands pulling the wolf closer. Stiles had changed too – taller than Derek now, muscular too – although Derek could see that Stiles would never really outgrow his childish gangly movements. He would always look too lanky, too uncoordinated – and Derek hated that he wanted to add ‘too cute’. Stiles wasn’t cute, he’d outgrown **_cute_** last year when he’d come back for Christmas. Now he was starting to show signs of the man he was going to become, and that worried Derek.

Worried him because if Stiles body was changing, maybe his **_feelings_** were changing too. He’d told Derek he loved him, last year, in bed. Nearly a whole **_year_** ago – and he hadn’t said it since. Not once. Derek felt like an idiot for coming – maybe Stiles had been pleased to see him, but that didn’t mean he wanted Derek showing up, intruding on his life.

“You okay?” Stiles said, and Derek saw that his golden brown eyes were looking at him with concern. “You’ve gone all tense again.”

“I’m fine.” He managed. Hating that his voice sounded rough. He didn’t want Stiles to think of him as… as a sourwolf.

“Hungry?” Stiles grinned up at him, seemingly unconcerned by Derek’s tone. Maybe he was used to it – and **_that_** worried Derek even more. He didn’t want to push Stiles away.

“Depends.” Derek said, pulling Stiles closer and loving the feel of skin on skin. One thing hadn’t changed with Stiles, and Derek was glad of it – he didn’t need any encouragement to touch, or kiss. He let Stiles straddle him – the younger man unaware of how much Derek trusted him to let him take control in that way when his instinct was to dominate. But Stiles wasn’t aware of the internal struggle as he covered Derek’s body, kisses mixed with murmurs of pleasure. That hadn’t changed either, Derek was pleased to find, Stiles was still just as enthusiastic as he always had been.

Derek ran a hand between their bodies, fisting around Stiles hardening cock. He still wasn’t recovered from the first bout of ‘reunion sex’ as he’d called it, Derek feeling slightly guilty that he’d been too concerned with his own rampant need that he’d not taken the time to make sure Stiles was ready. Not that Stiles had been unhappy, going by the gasping encouragements that he’d been unable to silence. Even thinking about Stiles begging him for ‘ ** _more’_** in that raspy, desperate voice made Derek’s cock twitch.

Stiles bucked into his hand, as he pressed wet, open mouthed kisses along Derek’s shoulder. Derek wanted to ask him to bite – **_desperate_** for that feel of ownership – but didn’t know how to form the words. Stiles had only ever bitten him once, at the marking – the first time they’d had sex. He nuzzled into Stiles neck, using his hand to pull and tease Stiles until he was mumbling incoherent words into Derek’s skin. Each breath was like a brand, searing and burning.

In that moment, Derek knew he would never be able to let Stiles go. He needed this – just as much as he needed air. Stiles grabbed his head and pulled Derek into a long, hot kiss, teeth clashing with a desperate desire that the younger man seemed unable to control, stealing Derek’s breath and robbing him of thought. His hands were fisted in Derek’s short hair as he pushed and rocked his body into Derek franticly, before stuttering to a halt as long strands of hot cum covered Derek’s abdomen, coating his hand.

“Oh fucking **_fuck_**.” Stiles said, collapsing boneless on top of Derek, who easily rolled him onto his back, covering his limp body. “You are a **_god_**. An actual God. I would know. I’ve met one.” Stiles rambled as Derek used his sticky hand to work two fingers into Stiles ass. He was still wet from the lube and Derek’s cum from the first time, making it much easier for Derek to find that magic spot that dissolved Stiles into a mass of twitching limbs as he tried to find purchase on the sheets. “Christ!” Stiles gasped, head pushed back into the pillow, neck tense and corded. Sure that Stiles was ready, Derek removed his fingers and pushed his cock into the tight hole. He couldn’t help the moan as Stiles shifted under him, giving Derek the chance to slide deeper into the  younger man. Slowly he pushed, until he was fully sheathed in the hot warmth of Stiles.

“I swear to god, one day I’m going to get used to how fucking massive you are.” Stiles ground out, “Not today, though. **_Fuck_**.” Derek couldn’t help the grin that played over his lips. Stiles opened his eyes and glared. “Seriously, dude. **_Fuck_**.” He bucked his hips under Derek, who pulled back slightly only to snap his hips hard forward, the impact almost lifting Stiles from the mattress. “Ow, no!” He laughed breathlessly, swatting Derek playfully. “Bad dog.”

Derek grinned, feeling – at last – perfectly at ease.

* * *

 

“They have like, these super important rules.” Stiles was saying, and Derek was doing his best to pay attention, but Stiles was still stinking of sex and Derek and there was only so much a wolf could take. Even the shower hadn’t washed away the strong smell of Derek from Stiles skin, and he was basking in a golden haze of great sex and better company. He lay back on the bed, hair still damp from his rushed shower. He’d not expected Stiles to have a communal shower  - the idea of other people seeing Stiles naked made him… uncomfortable. “Derek, are you even paying attention?” Stiles said, twisting on the bed to look at him. He was in the middle of dressing, jeans still unbuttoned and muscle twisting on his back. Derek could watch that movement all day. Stiles was no longer the skinny kid he’d fallen in… the skinny kid he’d **_liked_**.

“No.”

“Dude, you won’t get away with looking like sex on a stick in this place and think you’ll get away with it.” Stiles frowned. “You need to **_listen_** to me.”

“I’m a wolf, Stiles,” Derek reminded him. “An Alpha. I’m not worried.”

“Well good for you, because I’m terrified.” Stiles snapped. Derek frowned, Stiles hardly ever lost his temper with him. “These guys aren’t like you, Derek. They’re not were-bears – they **_are_** bears, and they have rules. Important rules that’ll get you **_killed_** if you don’t pay attention.” Stiles looked at him with frustration clearly written on his face and his irratic heartbeat. “Maybe you should just stay here.”

“I’m listening.” Derek sighed. Sitting up. There was no way he was going to sit in this tiny room for hours while Stiles was working. He wanted to spent time with him, needed to stay near him. “Start from the top.”

“Okay, it’s a bar for people like you, but it’s not **_just_** people like you. I’m not the only human there, and there are always packs of girls and bikers. The girls are there because, _super unfairly_ , all the shifters and ‘weres are super-hot, and the bikers are there because they think the place is a biker bar.” Stiles rushed. “So if you wolf out, someone **_will_** get hurt. Most likely you.”

“I’m an Alpha.”

“Good for you.” Stiles said. “But Dev is about 8 foot tall, 500 pounds and can time travel with fucking magic powers, so if you think you can take him on, you’re an idiot.” He stopped, obviously seeing the expression on Derek’s face. He was an Alpha. Surely he could take on a single bear?

* * *

 

No fucking chance he’d be able to fight this guy. The bouncer at the door had a friendly enough face, but it was somewhat marred by the sheer size of him.

“This is Dev.” Stiles said, half dragging Derek towards the door. “Dev!”

“Hey, little one.” The giant called Dev grinned. “Whose your friend?”

“This-” Stiles said with a flourish, “Is Derek.”

The guy obviously knew who Derek was, which was comforting. Stiles must have mentioned him to his workmates – maybe even mentioned that they were together.

“Ah, we get to meet you at last!” Dev said, standing up from the stool. He towered over Derek, clasping a massive hand on his shoulder. “You come with me, and let the kid get to work before mamma see’s he’s late.” Stiles grinned as he dashed past them both, giving Derek a thumbs up before disappearing through the doors.

“So, did he give you a rundown of the Rules here?” Dev asked good naturedly.

“He told me to behave, mostly.” Derek replied, shortly. He didn’t like the way the man was gripping his shoulder, or how small he felt. He had thought Stiles was exaggerating to get his point across – he wasn’t. The man who was grinning at him would easily be able to overpower him.

“Best advice in the world.” Dev laughed, steering him through the door. “Gotta warn you, he gets a lot of unwanted attention. Nothing he can’t deal with, but just know – you attack anyone in here – we’ll put you down.”

* * *

 

Derek didn’t like the bar. Far too many people, far too many smells. And he kept losing sight of Stiles in the crowds. Dev though, seemed to take it as his personal mission to keep Derek company, pointing out people and putting faces to the names that Stiles talked about almost constantly on the phone. “So the white dreads with the monkey – that’s Wren. Won’t say a word to anyone.” He said, frowning, “Works hard though, and keeps his head down.”

Wren. Stiles talked about him. Liked him a lot, actually. Derek didn’t like the way he kept his hair over his face so you wouldn’t be able to get a good look at him, but he got the feeling the guy, or tiger or whatever Stiles called him, did that on purpose. Derek thought it was untrustworthy.

“You don’t talk much.” Dev suddenly said. “For a kid who can’t keep his mouth shut, he surely picks the quiet ones.”

* * *

 

Stiles was collecting glasses when it happened. Derek was watching him move about the room with a happy smile. From what Derek had seen, Stiles was well liked – he wasn’t sure why he was surprised. After all, he was the glue that held the pack together, even though he was miles away. He was tipped well, didn’t seem to mind about being constantly on his feet and managed (although Derek wasn’t sure how) not to drop a single glass all night.

When it happened though – Derek wasn’t expecting it. One moment Stiles was collecting glasses and the next some guy had his arms wrapped around his shoulders, trying to kiss him. Without even thinking, he launched himself out of his seat – only to be shoved back down roughly by Wren. “Don’t. Watch.” He hissed at Derek, turning to look at Stiles.

Stiles had it under control. The guy was already face down on the table, arm twisted behind his back. “I mean, not that I don’t get it, or anything, I’m **_totally_** hot, but keep your damn hands to yourself or I’ll rip your fucking arm off.” He was saying, politely. “And you see all these people here? All of my **_friends_** here? They’ll all develop a sudden case of amnesia when the cops come around.” He smiled gently, still talking to the man in a calm voice. “You can even think yourself lucky that you decided to grab _me_ , because if you’d grabbed anyone else, you’d already be fucking **_dead_**.”

Someone in the back yelled out, “Just kill him, Shaman!” which caused a riot of laughing in the darker shadows of the bar. Dev wandered up to them and grabbed the man by the collar as Stiles let him go.

“You, my good man, are no longer welcome at this bar.”

“See?” said Wren, walking away. “ _Watch_.”

* * *

 

Stiles got one break, just after midnight. He sat on the step with a large glass of water and his phone tucked between his ear and shoulder. Derek got the feeling he did this every night. The only difference was Derek was behind him, Stiles sitting between his legs.

“Yeah.” Stiles was saying to Jackson. “Yeah, you’re totally right.”  He leaned back into Derek and snuggled. Derek was glad Stiles couldn’t see his expression, because he was sure it was pathetically happy, like a puppy. Dev had slapped him on the back on the way out. “Well done you, for not killing that guy.” Derek wondered if he just hadn’t seen Wren push him down to stop him. He guessed he owed the guy a thank you.

“No, sure. Totally. I don’t know why they wouldn’t just pick you either.” Stiles agreed. Derek thought Stiles did a lot of agreeing with Jackson. “You’re the one who does all the late nights too. Jerks.”

* * *

 

They were walking down the street at 4am, the place still pretty busy near the bars. Stiles was alternating between talking with his hands and grabbing Derek’s arm, which he was okay with. Perfectly okay with, actually, because it was great just being with Stiles and seeing him so animated – laughing and talking and pointing like a child with too much energy. The way back to campus was well lit, but empty at this time of night – or morning, depending on how picky you were being.

They were half way back to campus when Stiles stopped and turned back. “Don’t even think about it, Fabio.” He called out to the deserted street. Derek looked at him, confused, until he saw a tall figure a few blocks down from them. Had he been following them as they walked? Why hadn’t Derek noticed?

Stiles stood under the street lamp and glared at the figure. “This is Valeruis’ route, my friend. You don’t need that kind of trouble.”

The tall figure took a few steps forward, then turned and walked, slowly away.

“What the hell was that all about?” Derek said, once the shadow had disappeared into the night. He hadn’t even noticed they were being followed!

“You know vampires?”

“I’ve never seen one.”

“Well, think of vampires on steroids that suck your soul out.” Stiles said, gesturing down the street. “You’ve just seen one. They follow me sometimes, but if you stick to routes you know are patrolled, you’re pretty safe. No shortcuts for the Shaman.” He laughed. “It was the first thing Talon kicked my ass over.”

“You knew his name.” Derek said, not very happy about the idea of Stiles walking the streets with people who wanted to suck his soul out. His soul was the best part of him.

“Huh? Oh!” Stiles burst out laughing. “Fabio isn’t his name. It’s just what the guys call em.” He grinned, pointing down the street. “Hi Mr Valeruis!” He waved at a man in a very expensive suit and jacket walking on the other side of the street from them. He didn’t say anything, just kept walking. Stiles started walking towards the campus, dragging Derek behind him. “He never says Hi back, but hell, pays to be polite, right?”

 


	22. Chapter 22

Derek stood in the centre of his bedroom, **_their_** bedroom, and looked about. Stiles had left his tee-shirt hanging off the edge of the unmade bed – and Derek didn’t want to move it, put it away, because that would mean that Stiles was already gone.

The soft padding of feet behind him made him turn, the toddler toothlessly grinning at him. One of the triplets, because apparently they ran in the family, holding out chubby little arms. “Affa!”

Affa. Because they were too small to say ‘Alpha’ – which had caused Stiles to roll about on the floor in hysterics.

“Just how often do you tell them you’re the Alpha?” He’d laughed. “That they think it’s your name?” But Stiles was already on his flight back to New Orleans and his scent was fading fast from the house. Every room but this one – because Derek had been disgusting and hadn’t changed the sheets yet. He hated mess, dirt or clutter, but he knew once he pulled the sheets off the bed and put the stray piles of clothes away then Stiles would really be gone. Maybe for good.

Scooping up the toddler in his arms, causing an excited giggle that made him smile even though his heart was burning, Derek walked out of the room and closed the door soundly behind him, sealing the scents tightly. He’d clean tomorrow.

* * *

 

“Dean!” Isaac called when he saw Derek walking down the stairs, toddler in his arms. “What did I tell you about bothering Derek?”

“He’s two years old, Isaac, I honestly don’t think he understands.” Reever said, holding out her hands for the boy. She was already starting to show again. Derek seriously hoped their new house would be ready by then – he couldn’t deal with another year of sleepless nights. When Derek hit the bottom of the stairs, he handed Dean to his mother, who instantly coo’d and fussed over him. The other two were on the couch, crawling all over Jackson, who was complaining loudly, but not moving.

“You fool no-one.” Erica said, walking through the door. She was covered in mud and paint, but looked pretty pleased with herself.

“How was work?” Derek remembered to ask. Stiles had pointed out he never asked – he needed to fix that.

“Great!” Erica grinned, “It’s really starting to work, you know – we got three new bookings today!”

“That’s great!” Reever said, dumping Dean on Jackson. “Do you need me to book them in?”

Things had changed in the two years since the kids were born.

Reever had left school to look after the triplets full time, but the triplets (Dean, Cassie and Samantha) were hardly any work at all, especially as Erica, Boyd, Derek and her own family were constantly trying to get some quality time with them. So she’d taken up working for Boyd and Erica – who were building their own empire from the ground up.

‘Trisk Teambuilding’ was taking off, with Derek purchasing another chunk of the forest to the north – now a corporate team building dream come true. Paintball, camping, trust exercises – Boyd and Erica did it all. Every week they had at least one group of bored office workers trudging through miles of forests in an effort to boost morale. They did the leg work, and Reever did the paperwork, and it all fit together like a well-oiled machine. He had very little to do with it, aside from owning half the company. Occasionally Erica would need him to fix something, or pick a group up from the main road, but aside from that…

Isaac was still at school, still working towards becoming a vet. He was doing very well, going by his midterms – was going to graduate top of his year. He had a ‘way’ with animals, he was personable and fast to learn. Reever was more supportive than Derek would have imagined, keeping the kids out of her mates feet until he was done studying.

Jackson was excelling, although if you listened to him complain you wouldn’t have thought it. Harvard was a nightmare, he hated it, hated his shifts at the hospital, hated that he was always ‘stuck’ in paediatrics – hated life. Although if you got him talking about it, he almost glowed from the inside, would brag about his test scores, tell you the life stories of the kids he (apparently) hated and spent all his time talking about how great he was.

Scott was doing great too – despite his earlier struggles with the academy. He took orders well, was physically strong and was hoping to be involved with the canine unit. He was still dating Allison, although never mentioned it. They had moved away after Allison had graduated high school, but the star crossed lovers kept in touch – and those weekends where Scott wasn’t working the desk at the police station, he jumped on his beat-up old motorbike and disappeared, coming back smelling of sex and Argent – and a goofy assed smile plastered to his face. Derek wasn’t sure who he thought he was kidding.

Sheriff Stilinski spent his weekends sneaking out with his girlfriend too – much to the never-ending mortification of Scott – who had apparently ‘caught them at it’ once. Mellissa brought him over on Wednesday nights, for some ‘family time’ but it wasn’t really family. Not when Stiles wasn’t there.

Stiles was still at UNO, still hundreds of miles away. He’d come back for the weekend – arrived unannounced at the door with Jackson, who would soon be leaving to catch his own flight back.

“Surprise!” He’d called out, throwing the door open and dumping his bags down like he’d never left. After an hour it felt like he’d never been gone – rolling on the floor with the triplets who just **_adored_** their uncle Stiles. Almost as much as they thought the sun shone out of **_their_** Jackson. Derek hadn’t expected it, thrown totally off-guard by Stiles suddenly just being there, being **_home_**.

He’d stopped growing, at least – a good two inches taller than Derek but still with that air of fragility that might confuse people into thinking he was weak. Not so pale either – he’d been working with the New Orleans section of ‘habitat for humanity’ with some guy called ‘Ash’ and had a golden tan that made the cream markings on his body stand out like brands. Muscular but still thin, he wasn’t ever going to be as broad as Derek. He’d even grown his hair out a little, not much – no one else had noticed, but Derek had – it was long enough that he could catch it in his fingers when they clung to each other.

Derek had done a lot of clinging, but he was sure Stiles hadn’t noticed, because he spent a good hour just wrapped around Derek like he was a pole while Jackson bitched about his flight, the meal, having to wait for Stiles flight…

Stiles was home, in his arms, and for two days, everything had been perfect.

Then he’d left, and they’d argued. The first time they’d ever – **_ever_** – argued.

And Derek knew it was his fault, and he hated himself for it.

* * *

 

Stiles slammed the door to the large house with a kick of his foot. Fuck Derek Hale and his fucking hang-ups and his fucking…. Fuck.

Fuck him!

“This is not the happy glow I was expecting.” Valarius said, watching him throw his bag into the corner. Stiles wasn’t expecting the Darkhunter to be at home, it was already pitch black outside. He should have been patrolling.

“Don’t you have evil soul stealing vampires to go stake?” He snapped, heading to his room. Valarius place was huge, almost as big as Derek’s, although not half as modern. He’d let Stiles stay for free, in exchange for some protection runes and a whole helluva lot of spirit seals – a good trade for the luxury accommodation in the centre of the city.

“We thought we would wait for our favourite Shaman to get home!” Tabitha called up after Stiles, who slammed his room door like a child. “But, okay! Fine!” he heard as he threw himself on the bed and screamed into the pillows.

Fuck Derek Hale.

* * *

 

Stiles wasn’t answering his calls. Derek should have known letting him leave without… without saying he was sorry, or trying to explain was a bad idea. He should never have let him leave. He should never have let him go in the first place.

Now Stiles was in New Orleans, mad at him, and very probably sleeping with this ‘Valarius’ just to prove a point. Derek had been hurt, stupidly, blindly hurt – when Stiles had talked about this guy over the phone. The way he talked about how ‘cool’ Val was, about how much he loved comics, and junk food, and hunted vampires and was just so **_awesome_**.  Then he’d come home and everything he owned was stinking of this other guys scent. This mystery man had permeated Stiles scent too – a strange dark hint on the edge of Derek’s vision when he looked at Stiles, a power he hadn’t seen since Stiles had introduced him to Talon.

And he’d been hurt, and jealous, and stupid – so stupid! – when he accused Stiles of sleeping with him. And now he couldn’t say he was sorry, because Stiles wasn’t answering his calls.

* * *

 

“I don’t get it.” Jackson was sobbing into the phone, as Stiles sat on the step at the backdoor of Sanctuary. “I just don’t get it.”

“I know.” He soothed, not really knowing what to say.

“She was just a little kid, Stiles, like – a baby!” Jackson said, his voice broken and harsh from crying. “There was nothing I could do. I just had to hold her hand – and then… then… she was gone.”

He’d been working in the children’s ward again, and this was the first time a child had died that he’d spent any time with. Stiles heart was breaking just thinking about how Jackson must be feeling. He knew this kid, spoke to her parents – promised her that she’d be okay.

“I’m sorry, Jackson”

“I just don’t understand. She was the same age as the girls, you know? They were born the same week. What if something was to happen to Cassie or Sam?”

“Nothing is going to happen to the girls, Jackson.”

“God, I’d die if something happened to my family, Stiles.”

“I know, Jackson.”

* * *

 

Derek hated when he was wrong. Hated knowing that Stiles was right – he **_was_** an asshole – and hated the feeling of not being able to fix it. So he’d waited a week – a whole, long, miserable week of Stiles not answering his calls, before he’d gotten on a flight and shown up on the doorstep of Valarius house. He’d not even brought a bag because he’d not expected Stiles to want him to stay. When the door opened, and a scrawny short teenager opened the door, Derek faltered. “Are you Valarius?”

“Do I look like a butthurt jerk?” Was the smart ass reply, followed by a snort. “I’m the errand boy. Valarius isn’t here.” He was going to shut the door in Derek’s face, but he managed to get his foot jammed in before the kid had the chance.

“I’m looking for Stiles.”

“Stiles? I thought you were looking for Valarius?”

“I’m looking for Stiles.” Derek ground out.

“Jesus, make up your mind.” The kid drawled, before giving him an odd look. “Stay here.”

Derek was left standing on the doorstep of the large house, looking around. It was a nice area, well lit and with neat gardens. Too overcrowded for him though – he could see the neighbouring house with ease. The door was suddenly thrown open Stiles standing there, gaping at him.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He said, and Derek couldn’t think of a reply.

“Are you checking up on me?” He said, then gasped before Derek could even reply. “Oh you fucking jerk! You’re checking up on me!”

“No!” Derek managed, finding his voice at last. “You weren’t answering your phone.”

“That’s because I’m ignoring you.”

“I was worried.”

“I’m mad at you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’d better be.”

“ ** _I am_**.”

* * *

 

“This is Valarius,” Stiles was saying, giving Derek a look that clearly conveyed how wrong Derek was. Valarius was standing looking at them both with a faintly amused expression. His wife was in hysterics.

“He thought you were sleeping with Val?” She snorted, before she looked at Derek and hooted with laughter. “Oh my God.”

“We’ve never met.” Valarius said, looking amused. “But just so you are aware - I would never cheat on my wife.”

“Because I would kill him.”

“I wasn’t aware you were married.” Derek said, feeling like the biggest idiot in the world. Stiles was grinning, bright eyed and pink cheeks. Derek wasn’t sure if the make-up sex had been worth the week of torture, but it was definitely worth the trip. It was worth it just to see Stiles smile at him. Okay, so he was probably laughing at him for making an idiot mistake, but he was smiling, and it was directed at him, and he was going to take what he could.

“Well, now our favourite Shaman isn’t walking around like the world has ended…” Tabitha snorted. “How long are you staying for?”

“I, um – I need to go back today, really.” Derek said, trying to ignore the pout Stiles was throwing him. “I’ve got to get back.” He said, looking at Stiles. “It’s my turn to babysit.”

“You flew over here just to stop Stiles from being mad?” Tabitha said, blinking at him. “You have it bad.”

“Well… yeah.” He agreed, definitely not looking at Stiles.

 


	23. Chapter 23

Scott graduated first. He didn’t quite get what he wanted, which was a place on the canine unit – but he **_did_** get a job at the Beacon Hills police station. Which was exactly what he wanted, really – to stay at home. To ‘Serve and Protect’ what was his.

His mom cried. He got his picture taken with the pack, and Alison Argent stood to one side and clapped politely, looking for the entire world like the proudest girlfriend in the world.

* * *

 

Stiles graduated. He wasn’t top of his class, he didn’t get to make a speech, but the whole pack flew down to see him in a cap and gown. They had a party at the Bar Sanctuary where Stiles worked, and – at long last – Stiles ordered a drink like the 21 year old he was.

His dad cried. He got his picture taken with all his friends, and Derek knew that the waiting was over. Stiles was packing up – Stiles was coming back to Beacon Hills. Stiles was coming home.

* * *

 

Isaac graduated top of his year. Reever cried, as the triplets (Samantha, Dean and Cassie) tried to look grown up while holding their squirming siblings – the twins (who Reever had quite firmly announced would **_not_** be called Fred and George) were thankfully quiet through their fathers’ speech. Derek held Stiles hand and prayed that Reever wasn’t planning on adding to their pack. Logan and Gambit were both teething – and anyone with werewolf sense of smell knew that teething babies made the worst possible deposits in their diapers.

* * *

 

Erica and Boyd got married in a small, local ceremony. Scott invited Allison, which caused some arguments from the bride and groom, but was all forgotten on the day.

Derek **_didn’t_** cry. Stiles did.

* * *

 

 

Jackson graduated – got himself a job at the hospital where Mellissa McCall worked. He hated every day working in that place, although Melissa told them how popular he was – how the kids loved him, and how he was always polite to the nurses.

He moved into the room that once belonged to Reever and Isaac – didn’t hog the bathroom and spent his spare time babysitting.

* * *

 

Everything was **_perfect_**.

* * *

 

 

Nothing is ever perfect forever.

* * *

 

Dean and Cassie were hysterical when they arrived at the Hale house. They had been playing in the woods – not needing supervision, after all, they knew the place like the back of their hands – hide and go seek with Sammie. Dean was up and tree and Cassie was buried under some leaves.

Sammie couldn’t find them.

“The bad men came and took her!” Dean howled.

They had bows and nets – and they shot Sammie in the leg.

* * *

 

 

The pack spent 8 hours combing through the woods, Reever and Isaac alternating between numb and hysterical – before Derek realised that there was no trail to follow. They called the police when they found the arrow, silver tipped and laced with wolfsbane. Sammie had been taken by Hunters.

 

 


	24. Chapter 24

They were standing in the Hale house when Derek smelt it first. His Alpha senses were much stronger than the Betas.

Stiles father had shown up with Scott and Melissa, ready to arrange an official search, armed with a pretty good description of the people that had taken Samantha from her distraught siblings – who were currently crying in the arms of their uncle Jackson and blaming themselves for not helping their sister.

So when Derek’s head snapped up in panic, Stiles thought at first he had picked up the scent of Sammie – or the hunters that had taken her. He wasn’t expecting the look of terror in Derek’s red tinged eyes.

“Fire!” He roared. “Run! Get out, go!”

Too late, Stiles saw the rush of flames over the dried leaves, the almost silent sweep of fire through the forest, swallowing everything in its path.

“Stop!” He screamed as everyone rushed to the door. “Stop!”

“They’ll be trapped in here!”

“No.” Stiles said, holding his hands up – blue fire dancing in his palms. “The runes! I promised you that this house wouldn’t ever burn down. You need to trust me. You can’t outrun fire like this in the middle of a forest.”

The wolves looked at Derek for a response. His nod was strained. “I trust you.”

“About time.” Stiles grinned, before the flames of the forest swallowed the house whole.

From inside the glass walls, they watched as the fire danced up the sides of the building – trying to find more fuel, as though the flames were alive. Derek whimpered, his clenched fists white with tension and fear.

“This isn’t a natural fire.” His dad said. “It’s the wrong season for it.”

“It’s burning too fast.”

“They’re trying to burn us out.” Derek hissed, teeth clenched. “Fucking hunters are always fond of fire.”

It seemed to last for hours, but with nothing to fuel it, the fire soon carried on its trail through the forest, leaving nothing but the charred remains of a once living forest behind it.

* * *

 

It took hours before they could go outside. The ground was hot, charred – grey and black everywhere. The house was untouched. Stiles felt sick. Death was heavy in the air.

“They have Sammie.” Cassie said, standing in the middle of what had once been the wide drive. “They have my sister.”

“Not for long.” Derek growled. Stiles turned to look at the Alpha, looking through the forest with a dangerous glow in his red eyes. “They tried to kill us.”

“They think we’re dead.” Stiles said, looking out into the blackened stumps of the trees, some still burning, others smoking – grey trails rising up in the windless air. “We have an advantage.”

“If they are any kind of hunter, they’ll come here, to see if it worked.” Derek said, glancing around at his Betas. “We know these woods – this land – better than they do. We have the advantage.”

“We’ve got no cover.” Erica said, looking around. “They’ll see us for miles.”

“The children are venerable here.” Isaac said. “I won’t let them stay.”

“Keep them underground.” Stiles said. “Take them into the basement – with Melisa. She’s the one least able to fight.”

“What about you, Stiles?” His dad was saying. “You’ve not got time to draw out your... whatever it is you do,” He said, pulling his gun out of his holster. “You should stay here too.”

“Dad, I spent four years of my life getting the crap beat out me by a demi-god. I’ve got this.”

* * *

 

Derek wasn’t happy, but there was very little he could do.

“Stiles, this isn’t a good idea right now.” He managed, as Stiles ran his tongue over the thin skin of his neck. They had jut locked Melisa in the massive basement with Logan, Gambit, Cassie and Dean – the others were outside, talking in low, urgent tones.

“This is the best time.” Stiles said, gripping Derek harder. “I need this.” He traced a line of hot kisses down Derek’s neck, who was never really any good at saying no to Stiles.

“This is a bad time.”

“I’m not hitting on you Derek.” Stiles said, teeth scraping over his skin. “I need-”

He didn’t get the chance to tell Derek what he needed.

“They’re here.” Reever hissed. From her tone, the desperate, furious growl in her throat, Stiles knew that they had Sammie with them.

* * *

 

“Well, looks like you learned from your last mistake, dog!” The hunter called, looking at the unscathed house. Stiles was expecting to recognise them, know their faces – perhaps having seen them around town – but they were strangers to him. Five men, stood – holding an assortment of weapons, ranging from bows to handguns, knives and swords. A woman, holding a limp, unmoving Sammie by the throat, grinned evilly. Stiles had never seen such a vile expression on a human before.

“We should have known you’d be fire retardant by now.” The man (possibly the leader – Stiles thought) grinned. There was no humour in his smile.

“Let my daughter go.” Isaac hissed, his eyes focused on the limp child, dangling from the female hunters grasp.

“You’d think they actually cared about their offspring.” The woman said, giving Sammies lifeless body a shake. Reever whimpered at the ragdoll movements of her child. “Another mask. We know you are monsters – you don’t care if we killed it.” Stiles couldn’t tell if Sammie was alive or not, and he knew from the terrified expression on Isaacs face that he couldn’t either. If they had killed Sammie, this was going to be a bloodbath.

“What do you want?” Derek growled, watching their leader without moving.

“We want you to die.” The man laughed. “This world has no place for freaks like you.”

“There are humans here.” Derek said, and the leaders eyes flashed to Stiles dad.

“You should know better, lawman. These monsters are rabid. You let your son fuck a **_dog_**. He’s just as bad as them now. But you, you can leave.” He waved his hand to the burnt expanse of trees. “Go. You can live.”

“You have a child there.” His dad said, looking at Sammie, still unmoving. “You people have rules.”

“Rules? Do you think these animals care about rules?” He laughed, pointing his knife at Derek. “You think this one cared about rules when he killed his own sister? Or ripped out the throat of an Argent?”

Stiles paused, thinking. They didn’t know about Peter. There might be other things they didn’t know about too.

“You should have stayed away – boy.” He said to Stiles, addressing him for the first time. “You got out of town, left. You should have stayed gone.”

“You don’t know me.” Stiles said, brushing off the comment. He saw the look of anger flash across the man’s eyes. Stiles wondered just how far he could push him – an angry enemy makes mistakes. He couldn’t do anything though, not while the woman was holding Sammie, not when Sammie wasn’t moving – not if she wasn’t breathing.

Suddenly, Reever spoke. “Please, please, we’ll do anything, just give me my baby.”

* * *

 

It all happened so fast, so quickly that Stiles didn’t have time to register what was going on, what was happening until the blood hit his face, and Derek was on his knees, clutching at his chest. It was running down his face, across his cheek, his nose, eyes and mouth. He could taste Derek’s blood in his mouth.

His father was yelling, and Reever was sobbing, rocking the body of her daughter in her arms – but all Stiles could taste was the metallic tang on Derek’s blood on his lips.

* * *

 

Derek saw the hunter raise his gun before pointing it at Reever. Her desperate grab for her daughter had caused the standoff to escalate too fast – he dove in front of the bullet, taking it in the chest before hitting the ground, knees taking the force of his fall. It burned like a fire branding his body – silver bullets, laced with wolfbane – he’d felt this before, but it was just in his arm. Not it was in his chest and it **_burned_**. He saw Jackson leap toward the hunter who’d shot him, only to be knocked back with the force of a bullet through the shoulder, spinning and howling in pain. The Beta’s were not used to that kind of pain, he’d never expected to run into hunters with the peace pact they had with the Argents.

Bullets and arrows were flying through the air, the Sherrif already changing his clip – Scott alternating between his gun and his natural wolf instincts.

And Stiles wasn’t moving, frozen in place behind him, Derek could hear his heart beating – too slow, too steady – as his own heart slowed to match it. He was bleeding to death on the blackened earth that had already claimed his family before, and would claim his pack, his family, once more.

He looked down, unable to move, at the blood pooling under him, and saw it.

A single unscathed shoot, green and perfect, growing between the charred earth and his own hot blood.

Around him, his pack were defeated, only Reever and Stiles remained unharmed. Reever, who simply held the lifeless body of her child, and Stiles, who hadn’t yet moved since Derek had been shot.

Erica was on the ground, bleeding from wound’s Derek couldn’t see, Boyd trying to crawl towards her with three arrows in his body – Isaac, using the last of his strength to cover the body of his mate and child, Jackson twisted and contorted from where he had been shot, and the wires from a Tazer. Scott already curled in the fetal position and the sheriff calling for help, clutching his knee – blood pouring freely.

And Stiles hadn’t moved.

Derek fell forward, no longer strong enough to remain upright – and watched as the light faded from Ericas eyes, the green shoot wavering between them, twisting and turning – as the world started to turn dark around him.

“Stiles.” He said, the last word he would ever speak on this earth, the name of the only person who he had ever truly loved.

\--


	25. Chapter 25

“Stiles.” Derek said, as he lay on the blackened floor of the forest. All Stiles could think of was the taste of Derek’s blood on his lips – the rest of the world had drifted away. “Stiles.” That one word suddenly brought everything crashing back.

The hunters, looking at the wolves on the ground, a laugh from the woman as they looked at him, the only one standing.

“Leave him.” The leader said, “Kill the rest,” He turned away walking back in to the charred stumps of the once green forest.

_It was the last mistake he made._

Something inside of Stiles snapped. A raw, elemental power flowed from him like water, drenching the ground he was standing on. The leader managed to get to what had once been the edge of the drive when he stopped moving, looking at his feet.

He was unable to keep moving, as though something was holding his feet to the black earth. Under his boots, earthworms wriggled free of the packed earth, as though they were bubbles rising to the top of a glass of soda. They covered his boots, wriggling and flopping. “What the hell?” He said, trying to free his legs from the ground they were stuck to. Hauling at his leg, he fell forward, face first into the burnt dirt. He tried to push himself up, but his arms were sticking to the ground like his legs, worms writhing under his struggling body. “Fuck!” He called, trying to keep his face away from the wriggling mass of worms under him.

The earth under him was sinking, as the worms bubbled and flopped, turning the once hard earth into a seething, living mass. “Help me!” He tried to call, but his mouth was too close to the ground – as soon as he parted his lips, dirt and worms worked their way into his mouth. Gagging and choking, he tried to push himself up again, panic making his actions jerky and unsure. Slowly sinking into the earth, he was now at least three inches below the level of the charred earth around him.

He screamed – or tried to scream – once, before the mass of his body sunk deeper. He turned his head to look at Stiles, fear and panic showing in the whites of his eyes before the earth swallowed him whole.

The other members of his murderous team were too busy beating on the prone bodies of the wolves on the ground, enjoying the yelps and groans of pain of the Betas they were kicking. The woman looked back at the sound of a gargle from her leader, only to see his boots disappear into the earth. She stopped kicking Jackson to slowly walk towards what she saw...

_It was the last mistake she made._

She tripped over a root that hadn’t been there before, managing to regain her balance as she looked down at the thick white roots at her feet. Brows furrowed, she glanced around at the rest of the blackened earth – no sign of life. Shrugging, she walked on. Stiles flexed his fingers, and white roots wrapped around her ankles. She didn’t fall, managing to gain some balance as she pulled at her legs, trapped between the twisting vines. “Simon!” She called to one of the men, kicking an unconscious Erica in the gut. He turned, with blood that didn’t belong to him smeared over a cheek. “Get me the fuck out of this.”

He looked at her and laughed. “Told you those boots were a stupid idea in a place like this.” The tips of **_his_ ** boots were soaked in blood. Stiles felt his temper reach boiling point. The roots tangling around the woman’s legs suddenly tightened, Stiles heard the snap of bone before her screams started. Her knees buckled, but she didn’t hit the ground as the white roots wrapped up her calves, twisting and tightening as they grew up her body. Her screams of pain were enough to have the other two men turning from their masochistic beatings – the other trying to hack at the growing roots with his knife. “Jesus!” She screamed, as the long bone in her thigh snapped. Stiles grinned at the sound, tasting the blood of Derek on his lips. Her fear was black and grey, like the forest around her – her pain a slash of lightening on his vision.

“You made a mistake coming here.” He said – his voice throbbing with the power of the earth, dark and deep. The man hacking at the roots looked at him as Stiles raised his hand and twisted. The roots holding the woman gripped and moved with the movement of his hand. “You should never have taken the child.” Stiles said, not knowing his own voice. Fisting his hand he jerked it to his side – the roots around the woman pulling back into the earth – dragging her with them. The men tried to grab her arms as she was dragged under, until her screams were muffled by the blacked earth. It took only a few seconds before they couldn’t hear her at all – any trace of white roots gone, only the brown disturbed earth any sign of what had just taken place.

“You should never have hurt my pack.” Stiles said, as he felt his power wrap around the prone bodies of those he loved more than anything in the world. Erica groaned as thin green shoots wrapped around her body, covering her totally. “Erica never hurt you.” Stiles said, “Erica teaches trust.” Through the green plants covering her body, Stiles was able to see her as he’d never seen her with his eyes. It was as though he was covering her body with his mind. He could see where she was wounded, see how to heal her. It only took a second for the roots to leach the wolfsbane out of her wounds. The hunters were confused, looking at each other with fear in their eyes. They may have thought that Erica was about to be pulled into the black earth like the woman they had just lost.

It was their last mistake.

Erica sighed, as though all the life was leaving her body, the thin green shoots curling and turning brown over her body. They had done their job, and Stiles let them sink back into the earth that throbbed with power. Too late did the hunters see the white roots pull the arrows that were stopping Boyd from healing from his body. “If I was you, I would run.” Stiles said, voice causing the dirt under his feet to tremble and jump.

The man who had been kicking Erica, with her blood on the toes of his black boots took one look at the expression on Stiles face and turned back to the black and charred stumps of the trees and ran, tripping and stumbling into the distance. He didn’t get too far before the ground started flowing like water behind him. A wave of blackened earth churned behind him – he stumbled helplessly as he tried to keep ahead, like a man trying to outrun a tsunami. In the dirt it was possible to see the shape of a man reaching and pulling at the fleeing hunter under. There was no sound as the earth reached up and swallowed the hunter whole.

The other two men had been watching this with expressions of disbelief, as though they couldn’t even comprehend what was going on.

“You should never have touched the girl.” Stiles was saying, as roots tangled over Isaac’s prone body, still protecting his mate and daughter, covering both of them with all that was left in his body. Leaching the poision out of Isaac and Reever was easy, but under their bodies was the small, broken one of their daughter, who Stiles wasn’t even sure was still alive.

Isaac didn’t wait for his body to heal like Erica and Boyd were, he snapped back into consciousness like a bowstring wound too tight, snarling and fighting. Stiles found himself grinning.

“I told you to run.” He said, a dark pleasure in his tone as Isaac fixed his glowing eyes on the two men who had been taking a great deal too much enjoyment from kicking him while he was down – the men who had harmed his daughter and his mate.

The broke into a dead run, as Isaac growled. “Give them a few minutes.” Stiles laughed, filling up his lungs with much needed oxygen. “It’ll make the catch worth it.”

“Fuck you.” Isaac snarled, crawling to his feet. “They killed my daughter.”

“Not quite.” Stiles said, looking down at the sobbing form of Reever, holding her daughter too tightly. Samanthas grey blue eyes fluttering open. Isaac choked a sob, wrapping his arms around them both. Jackson was pushing off the browning roots that were leaching the poison from his body and pulling off the wires that were attached to the forgotten Tazer on the ground.

“Where are they?” He growled, shakily getting to his feet, Boyd pulling him and Erica up with one arm.

“The two that are left are running in that direction.” Stiles said, looking at Scott and his father. They were the only two not shot with the wolfbane bullets. His father was weak from loss of blood, but Stiles knew from the thin roots he had wrapped over his body that he would live. Scott too – was healing now that Stiles plants had pulled the bullets out of his body, slowly working them out with soft pops.

“Rip them apart.” Stiles said – his voice travelling through the charred burnt forest like a whisper. “Don’t worry about the bodies. No one will find them when I’m done with them.”

* * *

 

 

Stiles still hadn’t moved from where he had been the moment Derek had been shot. He could still taste the Alpha blood in his mouth, the power he’d shown to kill the hunters not even touching the edges of his fury and limits. He knew that the run off of power would need to be massive. Derek’s body was covered with the small green shoots Stiles had called up to heal him. The earth was soaked with the blood of his familiar, feeding Stiles power in a way he had not expected. It ran through his body and through his earth, bones and his essence. It was a root he could not break.

Stiles knew, knew in that moment what he needed to do. Everything around him was dead. He needed to heal the earth.

“I’m sorry Derek.” He said, kneeling beside the Alpha. “I’m sorry.” He repeated as Derek’s opened his eyes, and Stiles sunk his blunt teeth into the neck of the man he loved.

* * *

 

 

Derek’s blood filled his mouth, his senses and his very being.

Power bloomed from his body in a massive surge – soaking into the very air around him. He continued to swallow until he felt the light touch of Derek’s fingers on his face. “Stop,” He sighed, no strength in his voice. Stiles pulled back, gasping for air, blood running down his chin as he pushed away from the man who lay on the ground. “I’m sorry.” He gasped, stumbling backwards. “I need to fix this.” He tried to explain, pushing his hands into the ground. “I can heal this.”

* * *

 

Derek watched as Stiles pushed his hands into the ground, on his knees so he looked like he was praying. He was already starting to heal, the wound of his chest becoming less painful with every passing second, the bite mark Stiles had given him already closing shut.

Stiles looked like he was doing something, but nothing was happening. He had watched as he had healed the others, felt the edges of power when Stiles had healed him, but this... this was different. Something was happening in the very air around them.

Derek pushed up to his feet, hauling Scott and Reever up. Isaac, Boyd and Erica were all staring into the sea of blacked stumps. He could see the black and grey trails of scent – two men, the hunters – spreading through the remains of the forest.

“Reever, take Samantha inside, Scott, take the Sheriff, and call an ambulance.” He said, his voice slow and slurred. He didn’t know where the other hunters were, he wasn’t sure what had happened.

Suddenly, the earth around the house shuddered. It was as though the house was in the very centre of an earthquake, and the earth rippled out like still water when a pebble is dropped in it. He could see the ripple of earth reach out further into the forest and beyond. Then, for several moments, nothing happened.

Derek knew he was holding his breath, like you do between the hit of lightning and the rumble of thunder. They all knew something was coming. They weren’t sure what. A scream in the distance was cut off too soon, a hunter, Derek thought. He had no sympathy.

When it happened, it was like nothing he had ever seen nor heard in his life. It was deafening, a roar – a thundering might of sound that blocked everything and caused the vision to blur and shimmer with its strength. Covering his ears, the sound forced Derek and the Betas to their knees as they whimpered in pain. It was like a bomb going off in their brains.

He was able to force his eyes open, and saw something he would never forget. The earth was throwing up trees. They were growing in front of him, like motion capture photography, they were growing too fast to be anything but Stiles.

Stiles was standing now, as though the sound of the earth screaming wasn’t affecting him at all. From his outstretched hands, waves of power flowed like water. On and on, the earth churned and pushed, birthing a new forest in front of his tear streaming eyes. He could feel the blood from his eardrums soak his fingers as he tried to block out the sound that was anything but natural.

When the silence fell it was instant and almost as deafening as the roar before it. Around them, the forest was there, green and brown – healthy and whole. The only difference was the smell. Everything had the faint smell of pears – that essence that was wholly Stiles. Derek knew, even from where he was crouched, that every inch of the re-grown forest would smell like the man who was standing looking out onto the scene with an expression of wonder and regret.

Regret?

“Stiles?” Derek said, reaching for him.

“I will never be able to leave here.” He said, voice so soft that Derek wasn’t even sure he could have heard him right. “I’ll never be able to leave this place. Put too much of myself in to my trees. They’ll die if I leave.”

“You were thinking of leaving?”

“No.” Stiles grinned, looking at Derek with eyes of pure gold, glowing in the darkening sky.

 

 


	26. Chapter 26

Scott buckled on his holster and looked at himself in the mirror. Yeah, he looked good. A real officer of the law. Around him, the bedroom was a mess, sheets and pillows on the floor, the headboard crookedly hanging to one side – he really needed to get that fixed – and in the middle, watching him with an amused expression: Alison.

The gold band on her finger glinted in the morning light that peeked through a gap in the curtains, her hair mussed and sleep tussled.

“You look so handsome.”

“You look better.” He said, immediately, causing her to giggle.

They had been married for 2 years, and still Scott couldn’t believe that this stunning woman was his wife. Her father still wasn’t thrilled at the elopement, but the love he had for his daughter more than outweighed his dislike of Scott’s… Lunar issues.

It didn’t help that Derek had gone postal after the kidnapping of Samantha by hunters, threatening to kill anything that even **_looked_** like an Argent.

“We had nothing to do with this!” Chris had yelled, as Derek had him by the throat.

“How convenient.” The Alpha hissed. “As soon as something like this goes down, you know nothing. This is Gerard all over again!”

“Those bastards nearly killed my daughter!” Isaac roared.

“We had nothing to do with it!” Chris had gasped, Derek cutting off the oxygen to his lungs. “I swear on my word as a father – they were **_not_** Argents.”

Only one had escaped. He got as far as the Mexican border before Reever and Isaac caught him. They didn’t bother bringing the body back. The one who had tried to outrun the growing forest was found, or parts of him at least, hanging from trees that looked as though they had grown **_through_** his limbs. No one asked where the others were, and Stiles didn’t bring it up in conversation.

They had **_wonderful_** rosebushes though.

* * *

 

Stiles walked around the brightly lit supermarket snuggled deep into the black leather jacket that he’d been thrown before leaving the house. His sunglasses didn’t do anything to stop the glare from the fluorescent lighting, not that Derek seemed to care as he walked through the aisles with a slow purpose. 

“Can we hurry this along?” Stiles grumbled, trying to pull more of the jacket around him.

“Nope.” Derek said, before picking up two brands of olive oil and studying them carefully. Stiles groaned.

“Derek, my head is about to fall off here.”

“I told you last night,” Derek said, turning to face him, and Stiles wanted to punch that self-satisfied look right off his perfect face. “That you’d regret the shots in the morning.”

“I don’t regret the shots.” Stiles grumbled. “I regret the fact I let you drag me to this bright and shiny level of hell at 8am on a Sunday.” He lowered his glasses to glare at Derek, knowing that his gold eyes were red rimmed, bleary and bloodshot. “I was perfectly okay with staying in bed.”

“We’re out of food.”

“I can grow what we need.”

“Unless you can grow a cow, we’re going to need milk.” Derek shot back, his voice pitched at the right tone to make sure it rattled off Stiles hangover.

“Oh, fuck off. If you weren’t so pretty I’d punch you.”

Derek laughed in reply, the sound making Stiles cringe and cover his ears. “Are you trying to kill me, Derek? Are you? Cause I’m fucking **_dying_** right now.”

“You’ve got a hangover.” Derek grinned. “You’re not going to die.”

“Debateable.”

“If you are about to die, would you mind doing it in the chilled section?” Derek said, putting one of the bottles of Olive oil in the large trolley. “That way I could leave you there without worrying about you decomposing.”

“Oh my god.” Stiles said, no humour in his voice. “I married a comedian.”

“Last night you told me you’d married a sex god with abs of steel.”

“Last night you were holding a bottle of Tequila and wearing a sombrero.”

“That was you.”

“It was?”

“Yes.”

“ ** _Jesus_**.”

* * *

 

Erica grinned seductively at the man hanging on the climbing wall as though his life depended on it. “Just let go.” She purred, white teeth flashing through bright red lips – her blond hair flowing down her back as she managed to gracefully bounce against the wall with her feet, showing how it was done. “Your team will make sure you are safe.”

Boyd, holding the rope that Erica was dangling from with one hand, turned to the group. “Let’s give James some encouraging words.” He said, his deep voice exuding confidence. “James, we’re all here for you.” He called up.

“Trust your team.” Erica said, as the voices below them called out ‘supportive’ words. “I trust my teammate – he’s holding me up all by himself, and you’ve got 5 people here who you need to rely on every day at work. Let them help you.”

He shakily nodded, gripping the rope tightly as he pushed off from the wall. The cheers below made him grin widely – relief and pride.

“Well done James!” Boyd called up, sniffing the pear scented air and winking up at Erica who blew him a kiss. “Well done!”

* * *

 

Derek tried to use the tree to springboard toward Stiles, but found himself caught in mid-air. “You are cheating!” He yelped, as the root dragged him across the forest floor, winding around his arms and effectively tying him to a tree.

“You’re the one who is trying to rip my throat out with your teeth.” Stiles said, not turning around.

“I would never.”

“Yes you would.” Stiles laughed, turning. His glowing gold eyes were as bright as the harvest moon, for a moment Derek forgot how to use words. Around his feet mushrooms were growing, white heads popping up through the ground like bubbles. “I’m trying to work here. I can’t have you distracting me with your teeth.”

“I don’t need to use my teeth.” Derek said, trying to fight the lazy grin that played over his lips. He hated that Stiles brought out that idiot side of him so easily now, without even trying. A few years ago, before Derek had admitted that, no he probably **_couldn’t_** live without Stiles, the man standing in the clearing had made it his mission to make Derek laugh at least once a day.

He’d managed.

“You know, with you all tied up like that…” Stile said, voice trailing off as his eyes glowed. Derek had almost stopped noticing the way the trees would bend ever so slightly towards him as he walked – like the soft pull of a magnet.

“Don’t even think about it.” He said, trying to keep his voice gruff. “The kids are out here somewhere.”

“They’re on the other side of the forest.” Stiles grinned, slowly walking towards him. Derek didn’t even bother to ask how he knew anymore. Stiles knew the moment someone stepped foot in his forest, a bit like a spider and its web. “No one near for **_miles_**.” He grinned, looking more wolfish than any Beta Derek had ever seen.

“If you let me go,” Derek said, voice low, “I promise not to rip your throat out.” He growled as Stiles ran his hands over the material of his t-shirt, arms still twisted behind him around the trunk of the tree.

“No.” Stiles said, pulling at Dereks belt and popping out the buttons of his jeans, cold air hitting his already throbbing cock. “I think I like you just where you are.”

He was pretty sure that no matter **_where_** the rest of the pack were in the forest, they heard his howl as Stiles sunk to his knees and reminded him just how talented that mouth of his was.

* * *

 

Isaac groaned, lifting a small elbow from his throat. Around him, the small bodies of his children, each in their own superhero pyjamas (his favourite was Cassie’s Green Lantern onezie, but he’d go to the grave before admitting it, lest world war 3 break out) wriggled and squirmed. He’d fallen asleep with his mate – at least the kids left them alone long enough to fall asleep this time.

“Daddy?” Gambit yawned, rolling over his twin and on top of Isaac in an easy move born of habit. “Can we have breakfast at Affas?”

“Depends if he’s awake.”

“Stiles is up.” Samantha yawned. She tended to know where Stiles was, no matter what. Isaac wondered if it had something to do with him saving her life, a bond between them that he couldn’t see.

Dean and Cassie were tucked together like spoons – holding, very carefully in their arms, the fox. The fox that Isaac had banned from the house. **_Twice_**.

“Just because Stiles is awake doesn’t mean Derek is.” Reever mumbled. “He might just be getting a drink.”

“Affa won’t mind.” Logan piped up, “If we just go over. To say goodbye.”

First day at school for the twins. Isaac had almost forgotten. He hated first days at School, it meant his kids were growing up too fast, he refused to think of the 10th birthday that was fast approaching for the triplets.

“If Derek is awake you can go over to the big house for breakfast.” He conceded. “I’ll drop you off on my way to work. You’ll need to be showered and dressed though.” He added as they cheered. “And no, Dean, you can’t take the fox to school.”

The baby monitor ticked on the bed stand before the crying started. “Great.” Gambit groaned comically. “You’ve woken up the monsters.”

“Don’t call your brothers monsters.” Reever said, pushing up from the bed as the crying echoed through the house on the edge of the woods, and padded to the nursery in her bare feet.

“Dean says Dylan bit him.”

“Dylan doesn’t have teeth yet.” Isaac said, rolling out of bed and throwing Gambit on top of his squirming siblings. “And no, before you say anything – neither does Tyler or Colton.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, Logan. I’m sure.”

* * *

 

Stiles was sitting with his laptop, cross legged in the middle of the orchard, chewing absentmindedly on an apple as he read.

Derek was leaning back against the tree, he’d not shaved for a few days, and Stiles didn’t point out that the growth had more than a few grey hairs in there. Stiles thought it was hot. Stiles thought **_everything_** about Derek was hot. Still, even after 20 years.

“I can almost hear you thinking.” Derek said, opening his eyes.

“I was just thinking.”

“About?”

“You.”

“You always think about me.” Derek yawned.

“One day your overinflated ego is going to catch on the wind and you’ll blow away.” Stiles laughed, as bunch of grapes landed on Derek’s head with a splat.

“This is an apple tree, Stiles.” Derek said, holding the grapes and looking up into the branches. “Apples.”

“Did you want me to peel them, oh mighty Alpha?” Stiles grinned, ignoring the look Derek was giving him as he ate one of the grapes.

“Stiles, these taste like peaches.”

“I made grapes on an apple tree and you’re bitching about _**Peaches**_?” Stiles laughed. “My talents are wasted on you.” He sighed, going back to his laptop. “So under appreciated.”

He didn’t manage to read any further though, as Derek lunged forward and pushed the laptop to one side. Hands on either side of Stiles head, he kissed him – long and hard, robbing Stiles of breath. Fumbling with buttons and belts was for amateurs – practice made perfect, and they’d had a **_lot_** of practice. Derek only pulled from Stiles mouth for a moment, just before he pushed the long, hard length of him inside Stiles ass.

“Your right.” Stiles groaned as he was filled totally. “Peaches.”

Derek just laughed.

* * *

 

Jackson washed his hands in the large metal sink and nodded to the nurse by his side. “Good work in there.”

“Thank you, Doctor Whittemore.” She smiled. “The mother is in the hallway if you’d like to be the one to tell her.”

He nodded. He normally didn’t have the time to talk to the families of his patients before the children were whipped to the Operating Room – his specialty was ER paediatrics. There was never enough time, really, before he was up to his elbows in blood and death.

“Yeah, what was the kids name?”

“Sophie Lawrence.”

“Thanks.” He said, turning to the door. “Have a good night.”

“You too.” She smiled.

The corridors were never really empty, even at this time at night – but on a good day, perhaps there would only be one or two families in the small rooms. Holding the board with the medical chart on it, he took another quick read as he walked. Sophie Lawrence, 6 years old – father diabetic, no pre-existing conditions. He opened the door and stepped in.

“Mrs Lawrence,” He said, not glancing up from the notes. “I’m Doctor Whittemore and I-”

“Jackson?”

Her voice was unmistakeable. He snapped his head up and couldn’t believe his eyes. “Lydia?”

She was older, but hadn’t changed at all, with her strawberry blond hair in what would have been neat curls before the start of the night, now pulled to all hell by her frantic hands.

“Oh, Jackson!” She gasped, throwing her arms around him. “Are you Sophies surgeon?”

“Yeah. She’s going to be just fine, don’t worry.” He soothed, “A burst appendix, she’ll be fine in a few days.” He wanted to put his hand on her head, smooth her hair – but didn’t. He was her daughters surgeon, not her... they hadn’t been friends for years, had spoken since graduation and she’d left for New York with her parents.

“Its so good to see you, Jackson.” She whispered holding him close.

“Lydia.” He said, leaning his chin on the top of her head just for a moment, before coughing. “Mrs Lawrence.”

She pulled back, blankly looking at him for a moment. “I’m divorced.” She said, in a small voice. “Sophie and I... we’re moving back to Beacon Hills.”

“I saw you on the news.” He said, “Channel Five. Everyone talks about how you made it big.”

“Oh, yeah.” She laughed, ruefully. “I’m a **_star_**. Single parent, unemployed because Keith couldn’t work with his ex, and who am I compared to the Anchor, huh?” She still hadn’t let him go.

Funny, because he’d never really let her go either – not in all those years...

* * *

 

“Happy Birthday dad!” Stiles yelled, banging through the kitchen door with Tyler and Colton in his arms, Derek behind him with Gambit on his back and Sophie in his arms, both of them arguing good naturedly.

“Hey kid,” His dad grinned, “And if you think your stepping foot in this house, Derek Hale, without either Cake or Pie – you better have a good excuse.”

“How about – I’m really sorry, sir, but I’ve been babysitting for four days and you’re son is currently riding my ass about fixing that piece of crap jeep that’s been sitting in the garage for years?”

“Good enough, son.” He laughed, as Stiles spluttered and coughed.

“That jeep is a classic.”

“That jeep was a piece of crap when I bought it for you.” His dad snorted.

“It wasn’t a piece of crap until werewolves started ripping parts out of the engine!”

“Don’t look at me.” Derek said, putting Sophie down, her red curls bouncing around her head like a halo. “I only scratched it a little.”

“Mommy says that Stiles hit Jackson with the Jeep, and that he should burn it.”

“You’re mommy is a genius.” Derek said, opening the fridge and pulling out a carton of Milk, swigging liberally.

“Is Melisa ready?” Stiles said, frowning as Derek put the milk back in the fridge. “Dude, you’re giving my dad Parvo.”

“Parvo is a dog disease.” Sophie said, hands on her hips, looking like a tiny little Lydia Martin so much that Stiles had to blink twice just incase it was.”Derek isn’t a dog. He’s an Alpha werewolf. You should be more respectful.”

Stiles snorted with laughter as Derek looked smug. “Sophie, one day you’ll be older and you’ll understand how hard it is to respect a man when you’ve had to wash his underwear.”

“Mommy washes Jacksons clothes.”

“She’s a saint.”

“Who’s a saint?” Melisa asked, walking through. Stiles never really did get used to Melisa just... being there. The look on his dad’s face though, when she walked in and touched his shoulder, was enough – always enough for Stiles to remember that it really wasn’t that strange – and having Scott as a brother didn’t suck too bad.

* * *

 

Stiles was sitting in the branches of the oak tree when he felt Derek enter the forest, driving up the long and winding road. He was drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, Stiles just knew he was smiling.

It had been 30 years since the hunters had come. 30 years of pear scented forests and long summers spent laughing at barbeques and high school lacrosse matches. Derek wasn’t the Alpha any more, it had taken a long time for Stiles to get used to those blue eyes again, but he had relaxed more – let Cassie take the load off his shoulders.

She still curled up at his side when she was watching TV though – called him her ‘Affa’ when she was sleepy and forgetful.

He’d been married to Derek Hale for 27 years.

Stiles picked a pear from the nearest branch and bit into it, golden eyes glowing as he smiled, the sound of laughter and childish giggles from the next generation of the Hale Pack.

Who says you can’t live happily ever after?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all the great reviews and feedback that I got for this.  
> As some people have pointed out, I do not have a Beta reader and I am not American, so I do slip up with some things, thanks for being so understanding about it!
> 
> I hope you liked the story and I hope you like the others that I am writing!


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